


Fate/Stay Ruined Sky

by scatteringmyashes



Series: Fate/Stay Emblem [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fate/ Fusion, Bad Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Communication Failure, Fate & Destiny, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Sad Ending, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: Felix is a powerful young mage. Rider is a cocky bastard. Both of them want to win no matter the cost. In a war where ethics and honor are second to success, can the two keep their hearts true or will they get pushed aside by those who stand in their way?There's only one way to find out. Welcome to the Fifth Fire Emblem War.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Fate/Stay Emblem [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881112
Comments: 15
Kudos: 29
Collections: Sylvix Big Bang





	1. Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of the Sylvix Big Bang! I had a ton of help making this fic as good as it is, so shoutout to [Cha](https://twitter.com/akhikosanada) and [Eth](https://twitter.com/gautired) for beta'ing.
> 
> A whole huge shoutout and hug to my artist and friend [Evie](https://twitter.com/Yevievt) who not only did art but also let me scream about this fic in their DMs a lot more than they probably should have.
> 
> Now, quick note - the entire fic is complete, but per the Bang rules, I'm only releasing half today. The rest will get posted starting in September, with the two companion fics (yes, yes, I know) coming up soon after that. Here's the important part. 
> 
> **This is not a happy fic.**
> 
> If you prefer to wait until there is a happy ending, I would not be offended if you turn around and quit while you're ahead. While the overall series has a happy conclusion, I know that this is quite an investment on the angst to get there and I know that's not for everyone! But **please read the tags** and understand that they're there for a reason. 
> 
> With that out of the way, I do hope that you enjoy Fate/Stay Ruined Sky!

The air smelled like rain and the mana that filled Rider’s mouth tasted like bronze. He could feel his soul being anchored to reality by the chains of the Command Seals and could hear the tolling of bells that hearkened his arrival into the material plane. The ground underneath his feet was solid, his armor heavy, his lungs aching — he was returned.

Rider opened his eyes. He was in a large room, moonlight spilling in through opened windows. Several pieces of furniture lay bare, their coverings knocked loose by the force of magical energy that had been generated by his summons. The summoning circle lay cool on the ground, the last glow dissipating like a gentle mist.

There was a young man laying on the ground in front of him. His hair was long, his mouth a thin line, and his golden eyes — when Rider met his eyes, it felt as if he were struck by lightning. The man got to his feet.

“Are you my Master?” Rider asked. The man held up his right hand, ensuring that the red command seals were visible.

“I am your Master and you are my Servant. I command you to tell me who you are.” His voice was steady. Rider decided to let it impress him, if only a little.

“My name is Sylvain Gautier, legendary margrave and a _fantastic_ lover. I believe I have been summoned in the Rider class. Interesting.” Rider stretched his arms out. It felt good to be alive, even in this verisimilitude of existence. “So, my Master, who are you?”

“I am Felix Fraldarius, the last of the Fraldarius mages. By answering my summons, you have agreed to fight with me. I fight to reverse the tragedy that destroyed my family line.” Felix crossed his arms. “What is your wish?”

Rider turned away from him, ignoring his question even as the answer burned in his chest. He ran a finger over a couch that had more dust on it than a gravestone.

“You live like this?” He asked. He rubbed the dust between his thumb and pointer, frowning. “Is this a personal choice or are you just disgraced?”

“What is your wish?” Felix demanded again. Rider raised an eyebrow at him. “I will not fight with someone I cannot trust. If I do not know your wish, then I cannot trust you.”

Rider sighed.

“I have no wish beyond sampling the delights of this new era.” He cradled the back of his head with his hands, fingers laced together. "Seriously, though, please tell me this isn't going to be our base. It looks like no one has lived here in years."

"You would be right." Felix reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number by memory. Rider’s interest immediately vanished. He looked for the door, intent on finding something to entertain himself if his master wasn’t going to do that for him.

He vaguely heard Felix speaking to someone. Rider was intrigued by the concept of a cell phone, but the magic of the ritual meant that it didn’t actually hold any mystery. He was almost disappointed. He didn’t like when everything was revealed all at the beginning.

Felix’s voice filled the room. "Of course. I summoned Rider. Did you—"

“Master, do you have a bar anywhere? Or something to eat?” Rider called as he, on the opposite side of the chamber, flung the doors open and walked through them. His Master said something, but it wasn’t a command so he ignored it.

The hallway was dark and he couldn’t fight a light switch. Rider was stuck following a thin moonbeam that led into a room with the door ajar. He pushed his way inside, breath leaving his incorporeal lungs as he took in the sight of a well-furnished office. Even though much of the furniture was covered in white cloth, the bookshelves were clean and there was an imposing oak desk that held scattered papers and a few magic crystals. It felt like someone had quickly returned.

There were still spider webs in the corners and the books, though organized, did not look like they had been touched in years. Rider wondered as to whose estate this was. The Emblem told him that there were a certain number of mage families — was Fraldarius one of them? If so, they should have more than… this. What had happened to them?

He cast a wary eye over the sight in front of him. If this was his Master, then what did that mean for his chances in the war?

Above the desk, concealed with thick drapes, was a portrait. It loomed over the room and drew Rider towards it like a moth to flame.

Rider strode forward to reveal it when he heard his Master call him.

“Yes, Master?” Rider drawled, turning so he could lean against the desk in false apathy. His eyes carefully traced over Felix's form, his ill-fitting leather jacket, clean jeans, and tall, sturdy black boots that betrayed wealth.

It fit. Mages usually came from money.

 _Then why are you summoning me in this dump?_ Rider couldn’t help but wonder. Call him conceited, but he had a certain level of comfort that he was accustomed to in life, and he didn’t fancy losing that in death.

“What are you doing? If you’re going to walk off every time I turn my back, this is going to be a difficult war,” Felix grouched. Rider grinned.

“Only when you’re being a bore. Who were you talking to?”

“An ally. Now, you are a Rider-class Servant. Show me the means of transport you take so we may travel to her.”

Rider raised an eyebrow.

“Our ally?”

“Yes.” It was apparent that expecting more information from Felix would be as fruitful as waiting to draw water from a stone. Rider sighed and straightened up.

“Well, I would suggest that we walk, then. Or drive, if you possess such a vehicle.”

“Wh— Are you not Rider, the class known for their ability to traverse any terrain at the fastest speeds?” Felix asked, brow furrowing.

“I am, but there are only so many great wyvern riders in history. Would you want me to reveal my identity so soon?” Rider plucked a crystal from the desk. It glowed purple in his grasp. “Who is your ally? Caster? Lancer?”

Felix snatched the crystal from his grasp. Rider let him.

“Our ally is Saber. Now come, we have things to do.” He started to walk off and, for lack of anything better to do, Rider followed. “So, you fight using a wyvern?”

“Yes.” Rider stretched his arms out. “I also have a lance about this long. It’s called the Lance of Ruin. Very dramatic. Family heirloom, you know.” He kept his voice light. It was the only way he could talk about these sorts of things. “What about you? What kind of — of magic do you dabble in?”

It was still a bit difficult to organize all his thoughts, but he could distinctly note different schools of magic. In response to the question, Felix merely shrugged.

“Standard stuff. Thunder magic is the Fraldarius specialty, but I have taught myself a bit of Projection.” Felix flipped some hair behind his ear. “I have more than enough mana and skill to command you efficiently. You need not worry about anything else.”

Rider chuckled. “I was not worried about your ability to lead me, Master, merely trying to get a sense for your skills. No matter, though. I suppose I will be doing all the fighting.”

“You are my Servant.” Felix didn’t seem to notice the smile that dropped off Rider’s face, if only for a moment. It was replaced quickly, a lapse that he blamed on his lack of practice with social graces.

The previous Rider, the one who was still alive, would never have made such a foolish and basic mistake.

“Of course. And you are my Master. I must trust you.” Rider eyed the red seals on the back of Felix’s right hand. “If I ever do not, you can force me to listen regardless.” He held back a shiver, instead settling on a yawn. “So, Master, what are your first orders?”

They stopped outside a large wooden door. There was a wooden table, one of the few pieces of furniture not covered by a cloth, along with some scattered items on its surface — an old glass, a shiny rock, a picture frame that was flipped over, and a key ring. Felix picked that up and tossed it at Rider, who snatched it out of the air.

“Keep up, Rider. We’re meeting someone, remember? And you are driving.”

****

Felix gave him the directions as they progressed along in the car, the night streets flashing back as Rider tested just how fast he could go. It was so late, they didn’t encounter any other cars — Rider also noticed that they avoided any freeways, though that must have been faster. He wondered if it was insecurity in Rider’s driving skills or something else.

Unnecessary, really. Part of the ritual gave Rider knowledge of the modern age and all languages, which was quite handy since he doubted that Felix spoke Old English or traditional Gaelic. Plus he couldn't have crashed the car even if he wanted.

Neither of them commented on the way Rider's armor tore at the interior. Rider hoped that Felix wasn't leasing.

“I have two other masters confirmed already,” Felix explained. “Our ally is Annette Dominic, of House Dominic. She has successfully summoned Saber. The other is Ingrid Galatea, of the… former House Galatea. She has summoned Lancer.”

“Which leaves Berserker, Caster, Archer, and Assassin unknown.” Rider frowned. “Seven families… Seven Servants…”

If it were up to him, he would rather know who Berserker, Caster, and Assassin were. Each class had their own specialty, of course, and while Rider was confident in his abilities in a fight thanks to his ultimate ability — his Noble Phantasm, as the well-educated mages called it — there were some who naturally countered him. Berserker was supposed to be the most powerful of all the Servants while Caster was, naturally, the most intelligent and capable of crafty traps. And Assassin was always a pain, at least if Rider’s Emblem-granted knowledge was anything to go by.

“Are you concerned?” Rider asked. Felix shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

“The only one who could kill you is Berserker. The others either are at disadvantage in a head-on fight or require specific circumstances to succeed. If you are as strong as the legends say, I have no concerns about our success.” Felix leaned back in his seat. His leather jacket hung across his lean frame, some parts faded with age and a section of the left sleeve carefully stitched back together. A gift? An heirloom? It was hard to tell with mages. Whatever it was, it was old. “I don’t care if your wish is the most salacious in the universe as long as you bring me victory.”

“Really?” Rider smirked. “What if I wished for a hundred virgins?”

Felix glared at him but didn’t answer. Rider took that as a sign to continue.

“Or all the wealth in the world. Or a palace the size of a country to rule from. Or—”

“That is enough, Rider.” Felix closed his eyes. “The Emblem would not summon someone with as foolish a wish as that. You can hide it all you want, but eventually you will have to tell me.”

 _I don’t think I will,_ Rider thought. Before he could formulate a clever response, he slammed on the breaks, turning so the car narrowly avoided a streetlamp and instead sat across the entire length of the road. Felix was yanked back and forth, his seat belt catching him from cracking his skull against the window.

“What was that?” He asked. Rider tensed, the flood of mana tasting like salt in his mouth. He and Felix shared a look. Instinct took over and Rider dragged Felix over the center console and out the car.

  
Not a moment later, a huge figure wreathed in blue flames slammed into the passenger side of the car, a hand breaking through the window right where Felix’s head would have been. The beast — for this was no normal man — roared. The flames grew brighter. Rider flung Felix behind him and summoned his spear into the physical plane. It was a comforting weight, though he couldn’t help but feel a strike of fear at the crazed sight in front of him.

A voice, sourceless and cold as a winter stream, echoed in the street.

“Berserker, kill them both.”

Rider brought his spear up right as Berserker lunged at him. The opposing Servant was at least eight feet tall and built with pure muscle, almost entirely unarmored and wielding a greatsword. Rider had been mistaken earlier when he thought Berserker was surrounded in flames. This close, he could tell that it was just the sword, though that didn’t make it better when it made the air burn whenever Rider ducked, dived, or weaved away from Berserker’s attacks.

“Fuck,” Rider hissed, twisting away from a swing that turned the concrete street into rubble. He couldn’t engage Berserker directly, he just didn’t have the strength. Even deflecting a single blow made his muscle weap and his bones ache. “Master, I — may I use my Noble Phantasm?” He shouted, leaping on top of someone’s mailbox.

Berserker glared at him — his eyes were bright red, the same color as the ragged cape that trailed in tatters over his shoulders. His hair was a midnight blue and wild, falling in his eyes but providing no hindrance, to Rider’s displeasure. His veins seemed to pop with every roar.

“I don’t suppose we can talk about it?” Rider asked. Berserker roared and swung his massive blade. Rider jumped over him as his previous perch was cut in two with a single blow.

Rider plunged his lance into Berserker’s shoulder and felt a brief moment of satisfaction before Berserker grabbed him by the arm and threw him off. He twisted in the air and just managed to catch himself, tumbling awkwardly but not sustaining any major injuries. His armor threw sparks up as it crashed against the street, metal boots digging in.

“ _Die Klinge des Lichts_!” Felix shouted, hand outstretched. A brilliant sunbeam in the shape of a sword exploded from his palm, striking Berserker in the chest. The Servant stumbled back, his tunic singed but overall barely more injured than he was before.

Rider jumped forward, stabbing Berserker again. This time his lance pierced his torso, going through skin and muscle and out the other end. Rider bared his teeth, his golden lance pulsing with light. Its greedy claws seemed to cut and scrape against Berserker’s bare skin. Rider was a few meters from Berserker and the only way Berserker could get closer was by plunging himself further on the weapon.

He was bleeding profusely. Rider knew that he wouldn't be doing too well if he was stabbed in the stomach. Berserker huffed and glared at him. He raised his sword and slashed at the air.

Blue flames erupted from the blade, engulfing everything in their path. Rider was barely able to pull his lance free and then roll to the side. Felix lingered by his cover, a newsstand that stood at the corner of the street. They both watched as Berserker straightened up and cracked his neck, seemingly unconcerned with his injuries.

“Master—”

“Rider, do you think you can defeat Berserker?” Felix called. Rider hesitated. “Without the use of your Noble Phantasm,” Felix added.

 _Without the use of my greatest power, he would ask me to defeat one of the strongest Servants in the War?_ Rider scowled. He tensed and then parried aside Berserker’s sword, the brute moving with freakish speed. Flames licked at Rider’s armor, his face, his hands — he felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs.

Rider could feel sweat dripping off his brow, but he couldn’t pause to wipe it off. Berserker reached out before Rider could dodge and backhanded him, sending him sprawling. Rider rolled across the ground, getting a fun taste of concrete. He lurched to his feet, spinning his lance in his hands.

Felix snapped his fingers. A bolt of thunder came out of the clear sky and struck Berserker. He flinched back, a chunk of flesh curled and burnt. The strike had landed on the same shoulder Rider had hit earlier and the entire arm was functionally useless. Rider felt a moment of hope as he looked straight at Berserker. His eyes glowed with pure, unfiltered rage.

That massive greatsword raised up in the air, hoisted by a single hand. Rider felt the ethereal blood still in his veins. He spun his lance in the air, batting away the flames that Berserker sent at him, but while Berserker could not harm him, Rider could not go anywhere. The metal in his hands hummed, his companion begging to be released, but he forced that part away.

 _Not yet,_ he thought. _We can’t do that._ He glanced at the apartments nearby, where civilians slept on unaware of the battle happening outside their homes. He thought about his Master, who was counting on him to win this without using his Noble Phantasm. _Not here._

“Berserker,” the voice from earlier called, still void of any emotion, “Attack Rider’s Master.”

There was a pause in Berserker’s attack. Rider took the opportunity and jumped in the air, pushing off of a light pole and spinning gracefully to land between Berserker and Felix.

“I will not let you harm my Master. We’ve hardly begun the fight,” Rider stated, lance at the ready. He was sure he sounded more confident that he felt.

“Let us withdraw,” Felix commanded. “We’ll fight Berserker when we have the upper hand.”

“Understood.” Rider jumped back, soaring an unnatural distance so he could land by Felix’s side. “Master, allow me to carry you.” He waited for Felix’s consent before wrapping an arm around his waist. A blast of fire cut the newsstand in two and Rider decided that he would not feel any shame in escape.

The two retreated with haste, Rider leaping on top of rooftops to give them some much needed space. Either Berserker was more injured than he looked or his Master knew better than to try to chase after Rider, because they were able to find shelter on the roof of a large apartment complex. There was someone’s probably illegal pigeon coop next to an inflatable kiddie pool. Rider decided not to think too hard about it.

He was gasping for air as soon as he put Felix down, sitting on the ground and trying to reconnect with Felix’s mana. Felix sat across from him, staring into blank space.

Rider coughed. A bit of blood hit the ground.

“That sucked,” he muttered, wiping at his mouth. His gauntlet came back with blood smeared across the back. “How did he find us? I’ve barely been here for an hour… You need to work on your stealth, Master. Master?”

Felix was pale. Rider frowned, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Startled, Felix jerked back. His eyes snapped back into focus.

“Master, are you injured?” Rider gave Felix a once-over. Besides a few bruises and general exhaustion, Rider couldn’t see any other wounds.

“That was him… The hero of blue flames… The most powerful of all servants… I would never even attempt to summon him, let alone as a Berserker. What kind of person tries that?” Felix whispered. He looked up at Rider. The strength in his eyes was still there, but the undercurrent of fear wasn't fully hidden either. Rider couldn't blame him. Coming so close to death was unnerving the first few times. “How hurt are you?”

Rider managed a smile.

“I’m fine, Master. Just a few scratches.” He squeezed Felix on the shoulder, ignoring the glare that Felix levelled his way. Rider decided he would not be offended.

“We can’t beat him in a head-on fight. It’s impossible.” Felix sighed and leaned back, resting on the palms of his hands. “We need to keep going. I don’t know why he did not pursue us, but if we get caught out here, we’re dead.”

Rider nodded. He got to his feet, yawning a bit as he stretched out his limbs.

“You have plenty of mana, Master. I will be fine in a few hours.” Rider helped Felix to his feet. Felix nodded, peering over the side of the apartment building. “I must ask one thing of you, however.”

“What?” Felix asked.

“Do not doubt my ability in battle. The next time I face Berserker, I will kill him.”

“That will be hard to do when you are already dead,” a new voice called.

Rider summoned his lance and knocked an arrow out of the sky, seconds before it hit Felix in the heart. On the opposite rooftop, a man in leather armor with gold highlights and matching cape appeared. He had a high collar that didn't do anything to hide his sly smirk or the sideburns that Rider was a little jealous of. Behind him stood a woman with dark purple hair, a tattoo marked under one eye.

"Archer," Rider hissed. He prepared to cross the rooftops when a roar echoed in the streets.

Both he and Archer watched as Berserker ran down the street, his path illuminated by the flames that erupted from his steps. Rider tried to look for his Master, but had no luck until Felix pointed.

"There. I think that's Berserker's Master."

It was difficult even for Rider's careful eyes, but he could see someone in dark robes hiding behind a tree. There was no chance for Rider to kill him without Archer taking Felix out or, more likely, Berserker just stabbing Rider with his sword. They weren't in a secure position, not with two different threats present.

 _If I kill Archer, then Berserker will kill Master. If I try to kill Berserker, then Archer will kill Master. They're both too smart to go after me… dammit,_ Rider thought. He kept his stance down low, lance held defensively in front of him.

"Your situation is trick, is it not?" Archer's Master called.

Felix tensed. Rider raised an eyebrow at him.

"Macneary. I should have known you would have joined the war." Felix raised his hand. The seals were throbbing. "Rider, I—"

"Ha!"

A fourth Servant materialized above Archer. There was a woman with orange hair in braids hanging off his back, her arms wrapped around his neck. She didn't seem to weigh him down — Saber moved with fluidity, almost suspended in the air as his sword swung in an arc against Archer's back.

"Annette," Felix shouted, eyes wide.

Rider watched the action unfold. Archer twisted aside, the blade still digging into his flesh but not severing his spine the way it could have. His Master scattered to the side, something red flashing in her hand. Rider scooped Felix up in his arms, not asking for permission now that time was of the essence, and jumped to the other rooftop.

Archer was fast, Rider would give him that much. He put himself between Macneary and the others, bow raised and a golden arrow poised to fire. Saber didn't react as Annette slipped off her perch and ran to hug Felix. Rider smiled at Saber.

"Nice of you to drop in," he drawled. "We're not supposed to kill each other, right?"

Saber looked at him. His face was partially hidden by a mask, but Rider didn't need to see his mouth to see that those eyes were unimpressed.

"Argh," Berserker cried from the street, reminding them all that this was still not a won fight.

Macneary realized her position was no longer safe. She swapped the gem in his hand to a blue one glowing bright.

"Master!" Rider launched himself at Archer right as the gem flew from Macneary’s hand and shattered on the ground. A thick mist rose up and Rider found himself coughing violently. He could hear the two mages and Saber similarly incapacitated.

By the time the mist was gone, so were their enemies. Rider kept his lance up, ready for Berserker to continue the assault, but it appeared that his Master had seen the folly in attacking two powerful Servants. For the time being, Rider and Saber were alone.

Annette glared at Felix.

"You idiot! How did you manage to get attacked by two different Servants on the same day?"

"Luck," Felix drawled. "Rider, meet Annette. She is our ally. You are to treat her as you treat me."

Rider nodded. He bowed, taking her hand and kissing the back.

"Charmed to meet you, my lady." He winked. Annette laughed. Both Felix and Saber looked downright murderous. "And pleased to meet you as well, my good knight."

Saber was armored like any good swordsman, though not one Rider recognized. He had long black hair that was kept back in a ponytail and simple armor that covered his full torso and his arms. It was quilted in contrast to the plate Rider wore, but he had no doubt it was still tough as nails. His mask was simple leather that fit the lower half of his face, black ties wrapping around the back of his head.

Saber considered Rider with amber eyes. There was nothing there. No sliver of emotion or hint of sentiment that Rider could run with. It left him feeling listless, almost to the point of wanting to antagonize Saber if only to get a reaction.

"Don't be like that, Saber. Say hello to our friends," Annette teased. She smiled at her Servant. Rider would have sworn that Saber rolled his eyes.

Still, a gloved hand extended and Saber nodded when Rider took it.

"I am Saber. Annette is my Master." It was simple. Saber didn't let Rider extend the greeting, turning away from him to focus on Annette.

She was on her phone, showing a map to Felix. The screen was a bit too small and half-blocked by the mages so Rider couldn't make sense of it, though he tried to peer over Felix's shoulder anyway.

"I have been keeping an eye on the others. I think that I've located where Caster is — a protective field went up over a luxury hotel located right in the center of the city. The entire top floor is blocked off." Annette tapped on her screen. Felix nodded.

"Petra made a mistake revealing herself. That she thought Archer could defeat Rider in direct combat is proof of her arrogance," he said, as if Rider hadn't been stuck between two impossible decisions. "Caster will need to be drawn out of hiding. I also don't fancy fighting Berserker yet." Felix grimaced.

"Agreed. Saber and Rider together can fight him later, but we should try to eliminate the others first. Hopefully Berserker can do some of the work for us." Annette put her phone away. "So we go after Archer next?"

Felix nodded. He glanced back at Rider, who shrugged.

"I go where you lead me — as long as there are pretty ladies, at least."

"Ugh." Saber finally reacted, which was something at least.

Annette, on the other hand, laughed.

“Felix, where did you find such a charming Servant?”

“Do you want him? I’ll trade you,” Felix replied, but he was smiling and Rider didn’t think he actually meant it. Gods, Rider hoped that he wasn’t serious.

****

The quartet went to Annette’s home, a nice if smaller mansion — at least, small by mage standards. While Felix’s had been large enough to practically need its own zip code, Annette’s was sizable. Rider would have stayed in a place like this while travelling between different cities — that kind of home.

But it was nicer than Felix’s in every way that mattered, at least if you asked Rider. Annette could flick on lights, it wasn’t freezing cold, and there were even some old family photos hanging up on the walls. Rider lingered in the hall to peer at one. Annette was a tiny child, hair pulled into messy pigtails. She grinned up at the camera, a tall man and a thin woman behind her.

“Rider, come,” Felix ordered.

“Coming,” Rider replied. As he followed his Master’s voice, another picture caught his eyes. It was Annette again, but this time she was with a young girl with long black hair and gold eyes. They were smiling up at the camera, a sandcastle between them and the beach behind. “Hey, Master, do you have a sister?” Rider asked.

Felix stuck his head out of the kitchen so he could give Rider an incredulous expression. Rider gestured towards the image in question. Felix’s face went through a myriad of emotions, settling on one that Rider was well acquainted with — shame.

“I'm an only child. That is a picture of me. I came out in high school.” Felix went back to rummaging through the cabinets.

“That’s the only picture Felix lets me keep up,” Annette explained. “That was the last time we went to the beach. Before…”

“Before what?” Rider asked.

“Nothing.” Felix slammed a cabinet shut, some beef jerky in his hand. Rider decided to stop pushing his luck before Felix actually got rid of him.

The two ended up in a room that was too well decorated and cluttered to be a spare room. Most of the things were books, incense, old pieces of chalk — magical equipment. But there were also sword trophies on top of a dresser, a laundry basket shoved in a corner, and a picture frame that sat on the bedside table.

Rider tried to take all of this in without making it obvious. Some of the trophies had a different name on them, but all of them were for something called _jian wu_ — the Emblem translated it to _sword dance_. He squinted at the picture frame, but it was angled away from him and the glare from the glass obscured part. He could see black hair, a tree — without more light, it was too dark to examine.

Felix entered his room with no hesitation. He threw his jacket over a chair and he pulled his hair down only seconds before falling face-first into the sheets. He was getting blood on the cream colored covers. He probably had the money to replace them.

It was quiet. Annette was doing something in another part of the house, but Rider didn’t know for certain. Felix didn’t seem to care at all that he was in the home of someone who was technically an enemy. Rider had a harder time relaxing, but he felt confident enough that Saber wouldn’t just kill him in his sleep. Probably.

Servants didn’t need to sleep anyways.

Felix sat up, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. A picture depicting the subway system of the world’s major cities looked back at him, brightly colored lines absolute nonsense to Rider. Even if he knew what a subway was intellectually, that didn’t mean he could comprehend riding a metal tube underground at a hundred miles an hour.

“Master, do you have a need for me tonight?” Rider asked. Felix looked at him. Realizing his mistake, Rider grinned. “Well, if not, I was considering finding where the locals relax. There’s no point in returning for the War if we’re only going to fight the whole time.”

“I want you to keep watch with Saber. Alert me if anything happens.” Felix tugged at his shirt. Even though it had been several hours, the fabric still clung to him from the exertion of the fight.

Rider nodded. “Well, I suppose I can.” He didn’t move. Felix had a blank expression. He didn’t look like a fierce or competent mage. He seemed tired. Suddenly, a suspicion arose in Rider's thoughts and he did nothing to stop it from exiting his mouth. "You know, you and Archer's Master seemed to know each other already."

"Yes. We were raised with knowledge of one another, though we were not friends. There are only so many powerful mage families in the world, after all." Felix flexed his hand. His body lit up, his magical circuits glowing teal, but Rider found himself confused.

The Emblem's magic had explained to him that crests were the physical manifestation of a family's magical ability. The longer a line went back, the more elaborate their crests — sometimes called magical circuits — would be. It wasn't impossible to cast magic without crests, but it certainly wasn't easy. Furthermore, they weren't automatically inherited. They were given.

A parent performed a long and painful ritual throughout the course of their child’s life to ensure that they maintained the magical ability that previous generations had cultivated. If the parent died early, someone else could perform the transfer, but it had to happen quickly. Too long after death and all that knowledge and all that power would be gone forever.

Felix chuckled at his expression. "You look like you've never seen an incomplete transfer before."

"Technically, you are the first mage I have ever met," Rider replied. "But even I can tell your circuits are unfinished."

Indeed, only half of Felix's body was lit. The circuits seemed to be embedded in his flesh, their pattern similar to that of a computer's internal system — then again, Rider had never seen one of those in person either. The neat lines criss-crossed in nonsensical ways, though Rider attempted to find a pattern. But they stopped before crossing over to his left side, a neat line down his chest. If Rider was feeling more salacious, he might have asked how far down they extended, but the way the glow pierced his clothes made it a bit pointless.

"Some would say I am not a full mage. I was not able to inherit all of the Fraldarius crests." Felix frowned. The glow stopped. "Petra Macneary — Archer’s Master — was able to have an emergency transfer when her father died. That wasn’t an option for me and I’ll admit that my feelings on the matter haven’t been… subtle. We don’t get along.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Well, my father killed her father, so she has multiple reasons to dislike me. But I’ll show her that it doesn’t matter. I’m still the better mage. I won’t let anyone or anything stop me.”

"Good. Determination. I like that in a Master."

"You better." Felix's eyes narrowed. "I'm not weak. Just because I do not have my full circuits does not mean that my skill or mana is affected. There is no better Master who could have summoned you."

Rider chuckled. "And do you wish for a better Servant? Berserker? Saber? Maybe even Assassin?"

Felix rolled his eyes. He fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. There were plastic stars that glowed faintly in the moonlight that fell through the cracks in the shutters.

"Saber, maybe, but the others? No. Rider is always a powerful and versatile fighter and you match my style well enough. Besides, only an idiot would blame their Servant for their own failings. A good Master should be able to win no matter who they summoned."

"Some would say that a good Master would take the steps to summon the best Servant," Rider pointed out. Felix shrugged. The silence returned.

In another room, a door opened and then slammed shut. Rider could sense Saber leave the mansion and start traversing the grounds. Felix must have as well, because he waved a hand in dismissal.

"One more question, Master."

"What." It wasn't a question. It was barely even acknowledgement. Rider continued anyways.

"You and Annette… are you in love with her?"

Felix made a face. "No. She's like a sister to me." It was about what Rider had expected.

"Then why do you not live here instead of your drafty crypt?"

"I only started living there recently, in preparation for the War. We might be on the same side, but we still needed space to get ready." But there was something else and Rider wasn't an idiot.

He wondered where Felix’s mother was, though it was clear his father was dead. _I fight to reverse the tragedy that destroyed my family line._ It was one of the first things Felix had ever said. Rider wondered what the tragedy was. He doubted that Felix would just tell him, but he hadn't gotten this far in life — or death — by being scared of failing.

"Why did you start living here? Where is your family?" He asked.

"Why do you think?" Felix rolled onto his side so that his back was to Rider. "They died." He tugged a blanket over himself.

The conversation was clearly over.

****

Rider sat on the roof of the mansion, looking down on where Saber paced. He moved with surprising silence, his armor lightweight enough to not make noise. Every few minutes, Saber would look up at Rider. Their eyes would meet. They'd exchange a nod. They'd keep going on with their night. They didn't talk. They didn't communicate. Even though Rider found himself curious about Saber, it wasn't a burning desire by any means, so he just kept to himself and kept his mouth shut.

It was nice out. Rider had camped out in snowstorms, thunderstorms, multiple heatwaves, and general unpleasant weather conditions. His physical form had dealt with quite a bit. Being an ethereal spirit that was only grounded to Earth due to the mana that Felix shared with him was a different experience entirely. It might have been cold and it was certainly windy — his hair kept blowing back and forth — but he felt indifferent.

So maybe it wasn't nice. Maybe he was just enjoying the ability to smell grass and look up at the stars, even with the lights and pollution. Maybe that was all there was to it.

He sighed, looking at the street. There wasn't any traffic. A car passed maybe once every dozen minutes or so.

It was not so peaceful that Rider didn't notice when a blur pushed past some bushes and entered the lawn. Rider looked first for Saber. Once he confirmed that Saber was on the other side of the mansion, fully visible with his sword strapped to his side, Rider knew he had to act.

Lance out, Rider leapt from the roof and landed lightly on the grass on the side with Saber. He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble.

"We have a guest," Rider murmured. Saber nodded and drew one sword. The gold gleamed in the moonlight.

Silently, the two turned around the corner in time to see a seal appear on the wall. Before either of them could react, a bright light poured out and the entire foundation of the building shook. Saber and Rider both felt a sharp pain in their side, like being poked with the sharp end of a spear — the defense ward was being attacked.

"Assassin," Saber breathed.

Rider followed his eyeline and saw the shadow being cast — it revealed a tall man, some fabric wrapped around his neck and two long daggers in his hands. The Servant was still hidden no matter how hard Rider tried to pierce the veil. Saber raised his sword, but he seemed hesitant to charge forward.

The seal continued to burn against the wall. Heat and light rolled off it, reminding Rider uncomfortably of Berserker's sword. The shadow shifted.

Rider pulled his lance up right as Assassin struck. Sparks flew where their weapons met, each strike a struggle to parry as he couldn't see the enemy directly. Assassin seemed to pull daggers from thin air, his angles varying with inhuman speed and each hitting Rider's lance with uncanny strength. Saber stood there, eyes following the conflict but unmoving. Rider, in the back of his mind, thought that he should be touched that Saber didn't want to skewer him. He was a bit busy trying not to get killed by Assassin, spinning the lance around to try to create space.

It didn't work.

He hissed as a well-aimed dagger pierced his side, cutting through his armor like it was paper. That was enough for Saber to charge, apparently deciding that this was a sign. His sword swung carefully but swiftly and Rider could see Assassin's shadow shift as he ducked away.

Before Rider or Saber could rally further, the seal on the wall burst into flame. The two of them instinctively pulled back — Rider felt an itch in the back of his throat but held it back with sheer willpower. Still, the distraction was enough. Assassin was gone.

"Dammit," Rider hissed, looking down at his side. He'd heal, but it was also a nasty red and he didn't want to think about the fact that his side felt like someone had set it on fire and then covered him in ice. "Get the Masters. They should know what to do about this."

Saber physically bristled at being ordered around, but he nodded. Rider leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on the sigil as Saber left him.

A minute later, the two Masters returned with Saber trailing behind. Annette frowned at the sigil, which was still growing but slightly less than before. The smell of burnt plaster had invaded Rider's nose by now and he couldn't wait to go literally anywhere and smell the roses. That is, if he had a sense of smell after this.

"You said the Servant was invisible?" Felix clarified. Saber nodded. "Hm. I am surprised Assassin would attack us. They must not have expected both of you."

"But we've lost that element of surprise," Annette said with a frown. "Is there anyone who doesn't know that we're working together?"

"Does it matter? They cannot stop us." Felix looked at Rider. "Are you injured?"

Rider forced a smile. "A little."

Felix came closer as Annette poked at the sigil. She started muttering spells as Felix crossed his arms.

"Acid," he said.

"Oh, here I was thinking that it was just a love tap," Rider replied. Felix sighed.

Rider winced when Felix made a gesture and a sharp sting rushed through his body, quickly replaced by a soothing sensation not unlike that of getting into a perfectly prepared bath. Looking at the injury, it was growing less irritated though it wasn't healed by any means.

Felix brushed his hands off and looked over at Annette, who had managed to deconstruct the sigil though there was probably no saving the paint.

"So now we have seen every Servant except Lancer," Annette muttered. She tapped her foot in no discernible rhythm. "Assassin would have to be very bold to go after Saber… I wonder who their Master is?"

"Someone truly stupid to think that you'd be on your own." Felix offered Annette a smile. Rider felt like it was lightning in a bottle and wished, suddenly, that he could capture it all the same. "I know who Lancer is. He was summoned yesterday by Ingrid. She won't be our ally, but we don't have to worry about her for now."

"So nothing is really changing?" Annette clarified.

"Nothing is changing," Felix confirmed. "Go back to sleep. Rider and I can make sure the mansion is safe."

Annette nodded. She hugged Felix before walking back to the door. Saber lingered for a moment. Rider stepped forward, putting himself between Saber and Felix.

"Do you need something, Saber?" Rider asked, a single eyebrow cocked. Saber shook his head and then walked away.

Felix stood next to Rider. In his pajamas, he looked like a normal young man. The sleeves of his shirt almost covered his seals. Rider wondered when they would be used. Selfishly, he hoped that they wouldn't have to be.

"What was that about?" Felix wondered.

"I do not know," Rider replied. "Be careful, Master. Something about Saber… it feels almost familiar."

"An old enemy?" He sounded almost startled.

"No. More… complicated." Rider shrugged. "It may be nothing."

Felix sighed. "It never is."

Privately, Rider agreed.

#

The next day, the two went to the mall.

"You cannot wear that armor everywhere — you're going to ruin my car if you do. And I don't like keeping you invisible if I can help it," Felix cited as his reasons for buying Rider clothes. "Unfortunately, you cannot just use mine. You barely fit."

"I knew you liked my handsome face," Rider replied, ignoring most of the comments. He did feel a bit bad about the leather interior. If cars had existed when he was alive, he probably would have a whole fleet.

"I will order you to remain invisible," Felix threatened, but there was no heat in his words. "Now stop tugging your sleeves. You're going to stretch it out."

Soon enough, they were walking into the mall, Rider resembling an idiot in his younger brother's clothes. Felix kept telling him to stop fidgeting, but Rider wasn't satisfied until he got out of Felix's clothes and into his own. Rider hoped that money didn't matter, because he wasn't looking at price tags as he allowed himself to enjoy the soft fabric and colorful patterns available in the age of modern industry.

"You look like you're going on vacation in the Bahamas," Felix said as Rider showed off his latest find, a truly ridiculous button-up with tropical flowers across a shade of blue that resembled Berserker's hair.

"I take that as a compliment. In my day, you would have to be a king to afford anything that wasn't rough cotton and brown." Rider spun around, pleased with how the shirt flowed with him. His jeans hugged his legs and showed off his thighs, the sticker half-peeled off on one of the legs.

Staring in the mirror, Rider grinned. Even in the poor lighting, Rider thought he didn't look too bad. It was odd to not wear his armor, but he actually felt like smiling for the first time in too long. He adjusted his hair a bit, checking the way the shirt fell over his chest and shoulders.

“What do you think, Master? Do I look like someone from your era?” Rider teased with a cheeky wink. Felix, much to his amusement, blushed.

“Get whatever you want and meet me at the exit,” Felix replied, turning his back to Rider. He pulled out his wallet and threw his credit card backwards. Rider had to scramble to catch it, but managed to snatch it out of the air with only a little difficulty. “And don’t get distracted. We have other things to do today.”

“You got it, Master,” Rider told him. “I won’t get distracted at all.”

Felix glanced back at him with a funny expression, but didn’t say anything else. When he was alone in the dressing room area, Rider felt his smile slide off his face. From what he had seen in the pictures — and from the girls smiling at him as he walked next to Felix — he was still attractive in this era. He wasn’t sure if that was a disappointment or not.

He really didn’t know what it said about him, that he almost wished otherwise.

Rider shook his head clear, readopting his casual smirk. He made sure that Felix’s old clothes were bundled up before heading for the check out. He could fall into a fugue after the war was over. Of course, if he had his way that wouldn’t even be an option.

Felix was waiting outside the store, scrolling through something on his phone. He didn’t acknowledge Rider as he stood in front of him, not even glancing up when Rider cleared his throat. Rider sighed, looking to the side. A group of teenage girls — way too young for Rider’s taste, if he were to be brutally honest — giggled when he was facing their direction. He still gave them a small wave. They dissolved into more laughter.

That, naturally, was what got Felix to give Rider a glare.

“Are you a fighter or a harlot? Come on. We have work to do.” He straightened up and started to walk off. Rider followed, his shopping bag in one hand.

Even though the magic of the Emblem told him all about this world, there was something different about seeing it with his own two eyes. The colors, the sound, even the smell — it was so unlike the castle that Rider had haunted in life. The vibrancy of the world, now awake, brought a real smile to his face much like the sensation of soft fabric on his chest or the way Felix kept peeking at Rider, as if Rider couldn’t tell or didn’t notice. Rider did his best not to react.

Besides, it was much more fun to take a deep breath as they walked by the food court. Felix decided to react to that, stopping and crossing his arms.

“Spit it out, Rider. You keep looking around like we’re going to get attacked.”

Rider waved a hand, not meeting his master’s gaze. His eyes landed instead on a sign for salted pretzels. He wasn’t all too sure what a pretzel was — his brain and the sign supplied the information that it was some kind of bread — but it sounded and smelled delicious.

“Aren’t you hungry, Master? You haven’t eaten since breakfast.” Rider nodded at the storefront. “If we are fighting later, you should be in the best condition.”

"Do you have a reason for asking for that in particular?"

"Nope."

Felix leveled him a squint that made it clear that he trusted Rider about as far as he could throw him, but he didn’t challenge the blatant lie.

“Fine.” Felix started to walk towards the food court and not the pretzels, which Rider was only a little disappointed about. _Can't win them all,_ he thought. As Felix turned past a pillar, he suddenly stopped and clutched at his chest.

Rider’s eyes widened and he rushed to Felix’s side, one hand on his back and the other hovering to his side — he could shed his mortal clothes and don his armor in less than a second, but that could be too late if he didn’t notice an attack.

“What is it?” He murmured. Felix sucked in air even as he stood up. He winced and leaned against Rider. He smelled like ozone — the mana rolling off him in waves was enough to power a lesser Servant for years. “Master?”

“I’m fine.” Felix closed his eyes. His side glowed briefly then faded away. Rider felt a cold chill down his spine, but it was gone as soon as it arrived. “There’s a dark field set up here. Something very strong and very bad.”

“A dark field?” Rider questioned.

“Yes. Someone is draining this area.” Felix grimaced. “We have to get back to Annette and see what she’s found.” He started to walk back through the mall, his head held high and almost hiding the way his hands trembled.

Rider kept pace with him with only a hint of difficulty, though even that was impressive. Felix was shorter, after all, and Rider spent his entire existence at peak physical condition. He wanted to ask questions, but Felix looked liable to snap at any moment — in half or at someone, Rider was not certain, but he would rather not push his luck for once. Indeed, he managed to keep his mouth shut long enough for them to get in the car. Felix ordered him to drive and Rider resisted the urge to ask where. Instead, he headed back to Annette’s. He didn’t have to ask directions — he had memorized the location.

They were on the highway before Felix finally breathed. It was a long, heavy exhale where his chest rose and fell with equal cadence. Rider glanced at him.

“Master, what was being drained?” Rider asked.

“Yes, of course. You were not a mage. You have no familiarity with magic at all, do you?”

“None beyond that which the Emblem gifted me knowledge of.”

Felix nodded. He fidgeted with his phone. There was a button on the side that he clicked repeatedly, his screen lighting up and then going dark again. His background was a picture of three similar figures, all with black hair, somewhere on a bright day. Rider couldn’t get a better look before Felix flipped his phone over, concealing it.

“Powerful enough mages — or even mages who put enough effort into it — can create fields over an area using sigils. Some are protective, others are offensive.”

“Such as the one over Annette’s home?” Rider guessed. Felix nodded. “How would someone set a sigil in a mall?”

“It closes eventually. They must have broken in. Still, to set something like that in public… The Emblem War is supposed to be secret. The only way we prevent utter destruction is by following the rules and one of those explicitly states that noncombatants — normal humans — are not to be involved.” Felix tensed his jaw. He stared out the windshield with a dark shadow in his eyes. “They’ve broken the laws of the war. They need to be taken out.”

“What does the field even do? What can they hope to accomplish?” Rider felt that he was missing a critical part of the story, that the damning puzzle piece was still being tossed around Felix’s head like a ball of putty.

“Think about it, Rider. What do all Servants need to manifest and gain power?”

“Mana,” Rider answered immediately, “but there were no mages there. What could a field hope to drain?”

  
“All living things contain mana. It’s only the amount that differs.” Felix swallowed. “Even humans could generate enough mana to power a Servant if one doesn’t care about how many they kill.”

The car was silent as they made their way down the highway. Rider couldn’t feel his fingers. His hands felt cold and clammy. He thought of the girls who had giggled at him. He thought about the people who worked there. He thought of the people who walked through, who stopped and got food or sat down to rest.

“How do we stop it?”

“Either we hunt down each sigil and destroy them one by one or…” Felix narrowed his eyes. “We kill the Servant and Master behind this.” His phone buzzed. He answered it with a smooth slide of his hand. Rider was close enough that he could hear the person on the other end.

“Felix. It’s Ingrid.” A different woman, her voice slightly deeper than Annette’s, came through the line. Felix made a gesture for Rider to remain silent, which Rider obeyed with mild curiosity. He was a bastard, not an idiot.

“What do you want?” Felix asked. A laugh came from his… friend? Rider vaguely remembered the name Ingrid, but he wasn’t sure where.

 _Another Master? But she must not be an ally, or Master would have introduced us. Interesting,_ Rider thought.

“I wanted to give you a tip-off. Petra is participating. She summoned Archer.”

“You’re a little late,” Felix said with a smirk. “I fought her last night.”

“Then you don’t need me to tell you where she’s holed up?” Ingrid questioned.

“I never said that.” Felix motioned towards the side of the road. Mind-reading was not one of Rider’s abilities, but he pulled over anyways. “What do you want in exchange?”

“Honestly? If you take out Archer, that’s one less Servant I need to fight.”

Felix snorted. “And if I lose?”

There was a pause in the conversation. A motorcycle drove past. Idly, Rider thought that he should get himself one of those.

“It’s a win-win for me,” Ingrid finally said. Felix laughed. “I don’t think you’ll lose,” Ingrid quickly added. “I wouldn’t send my friend into a trap.”

“Of course not. We have a truce. I intend on honoring it, even if you’re going to use me as a pawn.” Felix didn’t sound all too upset, if Rider had to guess, but he supposed that mages were just odd like that.

On the other end, Ingrid snorted. “Yes, well, you’re allied with Annette. I don’t think you can argue with me about fairness.”

“Are you just bitter that she summoned Saber and not you?” Felix taunted.

“Are _you_ bitter?” Ingrid replied. Rider pretended to be interested in his nails. Felix’s eyes slid off him and onto the street.

“No.” It was impossible to tell if he was lying. “Send me the address. I’ll kill Archer for you and I hope you remember this.” Without ceremony, Felix closed the call. He sighed, adjusting his posture.

A group of mothers with strollers walked along the street, talking nonsense that was muffled further by the car doors. It was nice out. Sunny. The kind of weather that Rider would have enjoyed, back in life. He still liked it, but there was something about being an incorporeal spirit summoned for the express purposes of winning a war that really put a damper on one’s sense of humor.

“We’re going after Archer?” Rider wondered. Felix nodded. “Do you think Archer’s Master set the field?”

Felix hesitated, then shook his head. “Petra is many things, but she is honorable. She would see this sort of a thing as below her and a stain on her family name. My feelings aside, she is a worthy opponent. It’s not her.”

“Do you have an idea as to who did it?” Rider asked.

“Yes. This kind of magic? It’s complex. It would have to be a mage of considerable power. It isn’t me or Annette, obviously, and I doubt Ingrid would do this either. I do not know which Heroic Spirit the Hresvelg Master summoned, but I cannot think of anyone else who would stoop this low.” Felix curled one hand into a fist. “They have always done dark magic. Ever since almost all of their heirs disappeared—” He slammed his hand into the window. It didn’t shatter, but the noise it made still sent a shiver up Rider’s spine.

“We will kill them,” Rider promised.

“Good.” Felix’s eyes flickered from Rider to the windshield and then back again. “You were a noble in your past life, weren’t you?”

Unsure of where this was going, Rider nodded. He might have clarified that he was hardly much of a noble, but the niceties would probably be lost on Felix. After all, everyone in those days had a few rumors accompanying them. Most nobility just had redeeming qualities.

“Tell me, honestly, how you treated the peasantry? The people who depended on you… Did you watch out for them? Or did you let them suffer?” Felix asked.

It was such an absurd question that Rider couldn’t help but laugh.

“You must not have read very much about me if you have to ask,” he replied. “I like to think I was a good leader, but I wasn’t respected much. Don’t you know how I died?”

Felix hesitated. “I know of your reputation,” he settled on. “Those rumors were true.”

Rider leaned back as much as he could in the tiny seat. His arms were just able to fold over his head, the leather of the car seat cold to the touch.

“I was stabbed in my sleep by an assassin that had seduced me. Quite a dishonorable end to a warrior, by any stretch of the imagination.” Rider narrowed his eyes. “But anyone who did any research on Sylvain, the lusty lord of Gautier, would know that.”

The expression on Felix’s face was frozen somewhere between defensiveness and, surprisingly, shame. Rider hadn’t thought that his Master was capable of that.

“I… did not intend on summoning you,” Felix confessed.

Somehow, it was not a surprise and yet it hurt worse than a rusty blade to the chest. Rider managed a cavalier smile, shrugging even as he felt like screaming. It wasn’t his fault for once — he could hardly be blamed for this sort of screw up. It just — It was a reminder that he could never be the right person, not in life nor in death.

 _Of course,_ he thought bitterly, _who would want someone like me?_

“I was attempting to summon a paladin. I was told that the bit of rein that I collected was one of his. Clearly that was a mistake.” Felix shrugged, either unaware or uncaring as to the distress that he was causing. Rider had since learnt that malicious intent sometimes counted less than one would think. In many ways, the unintentional was all the more potent an injury. “It is fine. You are powerful and still of the Rider class. I meant what I said last night. Only Berserker could kill you, and we will just have to come up with a plan before we face him again.”

Rider nodded. Thinking of a goal, of his goal, was easier. It was a beginner’s mistake to be too attached, after all. There was no point in thinking of Felix as a friend. He was a mage and mages only competed in the war to win. Servants were nothing more than sentient means to an end — _if that_ , Rider considered, thinking of Berserker.

“I have confidence in you,” Felix said. “Don’t let me down.”

It was hard to tell if he was lying. Rider didn’t know him well enough. He supposed it didn’t matter. Even if Master didn’t believe in him, that didn’t change the fact that this was the best opportunity he had to grant his wish.

The Fire Emblem was a miracle-maker. That much, he knew, was true.

“May I ask a favor of you, Master?” Rider said slowly.

“I will do my best to fulfill it,” Felix told him.

“No matter how this war goes… No matter how our fortunes fare… Do not order me to harm innocents. I may have very little pride and honor as a wyvern knight left, but I have that.” He cast a considerate eye on Felix, allowing him a glimpse behind the cheerful mask he so often bared. “You asked me how I treated the peasantry. I do not know. Most of the actual ruling I let my advisors do. I just signed papers and slept with pretty women.”

Again, there was a pause in the conversation so pregnant that Rider had flashbacks to the multiple times someone had claimed to have his illegitimate child.

Felix licked his lips. He nodded.

“I would never order you to harm innocents,” he said. “When we win, it will be through our own strength.”

Rider smirked. “I would have it no other way, Master.”

“Good.” Felix cleared his throat. “And Rider? Your wish… it has something to do with being a better ruler, does it not?”

_If only I were truly that good of a person._

“Perhaps.”

“You will tell me someday. But know that, as long as it is just and good, I fight for your wish as well as mine. We may be Servant and Master, but a good Master acknowledges his Servant has just as much to fight for.” Rather than wait for a response, Felix held up his phone. There was a new text message. “We have an address. Let’s make Petra regret the day she made me her enemy.”

Rider nodded. He pulled the car away from the spot, eager to ease his restlessness with one of the few things that made him feel alive.


	2. Noon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, folks! I'm planning on updating about every other week, just to give myself some time to breathe between chapters and all. Thanks for the support so far! I hope you like this chapter too.
> 
> Again, please be aware of the tags and understand that things get worse and don't uh necessarily get better.
> 
> Also, the art is once again by the amazing Evie. Check them out on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/Yevievt)
> 
> Enjoy!

The estate of Lorenz Gloucester was like something out of Rider’s past, which he did not use as a compliment. It was about an hour out of town, which was dreadfully inconvenient first of all — though Rider got to learn how to pump gas, which apparently the Emblem didn’t classify as important enough to teach him to both his and Felix’s chagrin — and it looked gaudy. It was big and tall and surrounded by neatly managed gardens with square bushes and trees in the shape of animals. Felix kept making faces as they drove up the gravel driveway and Rider half expected him to lower the window and start taking pot shots at the shrubbery.

The fact that this was, apparently, borrowed didn’t fill Rider with confidence about who they were facing.

Ingrid had informed Felix that Petra had called in favors. A lot of them. Whoever Lorenz was, Felix didn’t like him either and didn’t say much about the man. What mattered, Rider supposed, was that Petra was there and Petra was the enemy. He also hated this place.

“Shouldn’t we attempt stealth?” Rider had suggested back at the beginning of what he supposed was the driveway.

“And have to walk in this muggey heat to her hideout? Unless you’re offering to ride in on your wyvern, I’ll take the car,” Felix had replied. “Besides, there’s no such thing as stealth against Archer. The only Servant better at securing their base is Caster.”

Rider supposed that was true. “Still, are you not worried about traps?”

Felix snorted. “If Petra has the sense to set traps, I will personally… buy you…” He glanced at Rider. “What do you like that isn’t women?”

“I like men too.” It slipped out before Rider could stop himself. Felix just groaned.

“You are — are absolutely insatiable, aren’t you?”

Rider smirked. “I’ve been told that, yes.”

Felix didn’t make conversation for the rest of the drive.

True to his suspicion, there was no trouble getting up to the front of the building. The ivy-covered brick was older than Rider and made him actually miss the halls of his home. Rider noticed, with a shiver, that there were no animals nearby. Not a bird nor bug were apparent, no matter where he looked. The fact didn’t go unnoticed by Felix. The two shared a look as they exited the car.

“I may have miscalculated,” Felix confessed. He drew a pattern in the air. A sigil appeared and then fizzled out. Rider closed his eyes and his mortal clothes were replaced with his armor in a golden flash.

“They are stored in another dimension for later,” Rider told Felix, who looked more than a little relieved to hear that he wouldn’t have to buy Rider new clothes every time they fought someone. “Now follow me. I do not like this, but you are safer with me than without.”

It said a great deal when Felix fell in line behind Rider, not a single word falling from his lips in protest.

There was a teenager with silver hair standing at the door. It was closed behind her, a tall imposing thing of iron and dark wood. There were sigils burnt into the wood and, now that Rider was paying attention, the cobblestones leading up to the mansion were warm under his boots. He felt twitchy, even a strong gust of wind making him want to stab a nearby rose bush out of paranoia.

“Hello,” the woman said. She was dressed in a simple maid’s dress, but there was something that made the hair stand up on the back of Rider’s neck. “Are you here for Master Macneary?”

Felix and Rider both met each other’s eyes. Rider stepped forward, putting himself between his master and this stranger. The woman just smiled. There was something unnatural about her — not just her hair, but also the gleam in her eyes and the stillness in her form. Rider watched her and then it hit him. She wasn’t breathing.

“Who are you?” Rider asked.

“My name is Lysithea. I am a homunculus of the Gloucester family. Master Gloucester has extended his hospitality to Master Macneary.” She gave them a curtsey. “If you can get to her, she said she’ll speak with you.”

“If we can get to her? Are you going to stop us?” Rider asked. He held out the Lance of Ruin. Its pincers trembled, hungry for a fight.

Lysithea laughed. It was light and child-like, though she looked like she couldn’t be younger than eighteen. Her eyes narrowed.

“No, no, I will not stop you. There are six levels. You will find Master Macneary on the uppermost floor. Good luck.” She clapped her hands and, before Rider could react, her entire body got enveloped in bright light. In a moment, she disappeared. There was no evidence that she had even existed.

Rider tipped his head towards Felix, who had a careful mask of apathy over his face. When he noticed that Rider was looking at him, Felix scowled.

“No traps, eh?” Rider teased.

“Can you get through it or not?” Felix asked.

Not answering, Rider motioned for Felix to stay where he was and approached the door. He swept his eyes over the walkway, but there weren’t any wards or traps as far as he could tell. There wasn’t anything on the door either, but he didn’t touch it yet. Slowly, he raised his lance. Silently, he stabbed it through the door.

Another flash of light was all the warning Rider got before a column of fire blasted from the entryway. He could feel the first layer of his skin burn off, but his armor was untouched and he was still in one piece. It disappeared quickly, not even a puff of smoke curling in the air. Rider saw a shield fizzle out from around Felix. The apathy was replaced with a scowl.

“Rider, answer my question,” Felix ordered.

“Eh, I think I can manage it.” Rider rolled his shoulders and, with a casual stroll back to the front door, pushed it open. The hinges moved without a squeak. “Archer! You and your Master better count down from one hundred, because that’s how many seconds you have left to live.” He stepped back out of the building.

“What are you doing?” Felix asked, running over. “I know that I told you that there was no use for stealth, but—”

“Trust me, will you, Master?” Rider rolled his shoulders. He held his hand out towards Felix. “Take my hand.”

Unsurprisingly, Felix didn’t move. Rider was a bit surprised that he didn’t straight up stomp his foot.

“This is ridiculous. Why? The front door is right there.”

“We are not using the front door.” Rider waited for another moment. He was about to grab Felix and just carry him like a sack, but Felix ended up taking a step closer to him, then another one. Felix allowed Rider to wrap an arm around his waist. Then, without further ado, Rider launched himself upwards.

The air flew through Rider’s hair and he took in a deep breath, recalling days of flying miles and miles away from his problems. As he started to slow, he grabbed onto the side of the building gauntlets digging into the brick. It started to glow and he hauled himself up further, breaking through the top window with a dramatic _crash_.

He had guessed correctly — the window stung, but it was just regular glass and not enchanted. Or, if it was, then it wasn’t well warded.

Archer was not in this room, however. Everything seemed to be a garish yellow, though the door was a pale pink. Somehow, that was worse.

“Stay behind me,” Rider reiterated. His lance out, he led Felix out of the room. Before they got three feet out the door, an arrow sprouted out of Rider’s shoulder.

“Dammit,” Archer said, shaking his head. “That was supposed to go in your head.” He was standing at the end of the hall. His bow glowed slightly and his armor seemed brighter in the, quite honestly, gaudy lighting. There were honest-to-God oil lamps on the walls. Rider rolled his eyes for multiple reasons.

“So you decided to show your face?” Rider asked. He yanked the arrow out of his shoulder. His blood trickled across his armor. It was a flesh wound, really, but it did make him feel a bit sour. He liked scoring the first hit. Just a matter of principle. “Where’s your Master? Hiding in a secret chamber?”

“It’s easier to fight without having to worry about someone else on the field.” Archer raised his bow. “But I don’t usually talk during a fight. Raise your weapon.” True to his word, Archer fired off three shots.

Rider dodged one, deflected the other two, and shoved Felix back into the room without hesitation. He charged at Archer, lance cutting into the wall as it dragged behind him. He swung it in a wide arc as he approached Archer, eyes narrowing as Archer just jumped back to put more space between them. It was hard to maneuver his weapon in such a small space. It was designed, after all, to be used while he was on the back of a wyvern — not tiny by any means.

Spotting another arrow flying at him, Rider grabbed an oil lamp off the wall and tossed it at the projectile. Sparks and a thin trail of flame followed the object, a small fire going up in the middle of the hall. Without letting Archer take a breath, Rider ran forward.

Splinters flew through the air, a slight coat of dust catching the light as his lance ruined the wallpaper. Rider leaned to one side, an arrow whizzing by his cheek. His lance danced in the air, but Archer was just as nimble as he flowed around in. They might have been in a cramped hallway, but Archer seemed able to make space. His golden robes flowed around him in a way that vaguely reminded Rider of water over stones.

Still, Rider smirked when his lance left a clean line through the left hand sleeve of Archer’s clothes. No blood was drawn, but Rider could sense the shift immediately.

Archer tried to jump back, but Rider reached out with his free hand and grabbed at his silks. His fist closed around one layer. The fabric tore as Archer pulled himself free, but Rider could still wield his lance with one hand and this time he struck true.

“Shit,” Archer gasped, his side blossoming red. A glancing blow, but it was proof that Rider could land a hit. Archer spun around and ran for a window — there really were too many in this hallway, but it just gave Rider space to give chase. He decided to go out one of his own rather than follow directly. It probably wasn’t a trap, but the risk wasn’t worth the reward.

He was more than strong enough to break glass and, with a cursory glance to check the angle, throw himself onto the roof. He had to roll aside immediately as the place where he was turned into a pincushion. Rider twisted the Lance of Ruin in his hands, letting the familiar motion calm his mind.

Archer stood on the far side of the roof. His robes were stained red, but it didn’t seem to be spreading unfortunately. He squinted at Rider and, without a word, shot off two more projectiles.

These were not ones Rider could stop, and he recognized that as soon as he saw the glow of the arrows. Rather than even try, he tumbled to the left and then emerged from the crouch to try to launch himself at Archer. His lance pierced the brick, sending fragments into the air, but Archer was already out of range.

Rider let out a sharp cry as an arrow struck him in the back, this one red-hot and burning his flesh.

He brought his lance up and parried another one of the golden arrows, though it might have been more accurate to describe them as created from light. Each glowed and left a streak in the air, he noticed, and they made no sound when his lance passed through them. The one he had tried, instinctually, to knock down instead ended up in his shoulder. Rider supposed he should count his blessings — the wounds didn’t bleed and the arrows disappeared, so they at least did not hinder his combat further beyond the original injury.

Once more a comfortable distance, Archer grinned. There was no warmth in his eyes.

“You may have thought yourself clever, avoiding the mansion traps, but do you really think that we didn’t foresee this happening?” Archer gestured around. “I thought that this would be harder. I cannot help but find myself a little disappointed that this fight is over so easily. Very well, Rider. Goodbye.”

Archer raised his bow and Rider made a decision for himself.

“Break the heavens with your wings, wyvern of the west, Ruined Sky!” He shouted. A sudden gust of air came down from the heavens, one strong enough to force Archer to his knees, and Rider stood in the center. The roar that came from the center of the cyclone was loud enough to be heard for miles, but he just grinned. A great ball of fire fell from the sky, but rather than cause calamity, it unfurled leathery wings and let out another bellow.

A wyvern, long as a semi-truck and twice as wide, landed at Rider’s side. The roof buckled under its weight, and Rider wasted no time climbing on top of his faithful steed’s back. The reins and harness were just as he remembered — even the smell of ash was familiar. Rider grinned as he caught Archer’s eyes.

“I thank you, really, for bringing us outside. Nidhogg has never done well indoors.” Rider kicked his heels and took to the skies as a well-intended but slow arrow shot past him. Archer looked downright murderous but, to his credit, he was not shaking in his boots.

Rider leaned in close to his wyvern’s rough hide, letting the wind caress his hair like a forlorn lover. His lance was held tight in one hand, the reins in the other, and he felt _free_.

“Let’s do this,” he murmured. He pulled Nidhogg around for a quick strafe, fire erupting from its maw as they passed by Archer. The attack managed to throw Archer off-kilter, but he still managed to fire an arrow that pierced Nidhogg’s hide and left its left wing joint bleeding black in the air.

On the roof, there was nothing to catch fire, but the stone was certainly not safe — it was starting to buckle from the heat. Archer scrambled to another side, his whole bow starting to glow.

 _I don’t like the look of that,_ Rider thought as he rounded the sky for another charge. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure in black running across the lawn. Felix. _Fuck. What is he doing?_

“Let’s end this!” Rider shouted, standing up in his stirrups. He swung his lance in the air, the metal catching what light remained. Clouds were starting to appear in the sky. Not ones foreshadowing rain, but ones darker and thick. Smoke clouds, ones that followed destruction, were gathering.

“Nice pet, Rider. I will show you the respect that you deserve.” Archer’s bow stopped glowing as it grew several feet longer and spikes erupted from its curves. Rider hadn’t noticed, but there was a gem embedded towards the grip that began to pulse red. “I am Khalid von Riegan, first of my name. Failnaught, strike with the force of a Fallen Star!”

 _His Noble Phantasm?_ But Rider didn’t have time to consider his options.

“Nidhogg, let me hear you roar!” Rider shouted. His mount let out an ear-splitting cry, rearing up on its hind legs. They flew forward, twisting in a spiral even as time seemed to slow and space bent around them. Rider felt, rather than saw, the white bolt leave Archer’s bow. It seared through Nidhogg’s chest, spilling blood and ash everywhere. Nidhogg cried out in pain, the embers in its eyes dying.

Rider found himself hurling through the air, his lance in one hand, as the magic manifesting Nidhogg fell apart. The air twisted around him and he pulled the Lance of Ruin close to him, its blade angled towards his target.

_Shink!_

For a moment, all was still. Rider looked down at his stomach. There was a mark there where Archer’s blow had landed, but Nidhogg had taken the brunt of the attack. Blood soaked his chest as pain blossomed up Rider’s arms, his ribcage fragmented in his chest, but his arms still held enough strength to push the Lance of Ruin through Archer’s chest.

“Dammit,” Archer spat. Blood smeared against his lips. “I guess brains can’t win against brawn all the time.”

“You almost got me,” Rider reassured him. “It’s not your fault that I have more to work with.” He watched as Archer snorted, closed his eyes, and then dissolved into a thousand fragments of sunlight. The fight was over. Rider had won.

Felix was waiting at the car when Rider descended from the roof, landing with a slight stumble. He didn’t receive help, nor did he expect it. Looking back at the estate, he grimaced. It might not have been set on fire, but it was a close thing. At least, with Nidhogg dissipated, the smoke was starting to clear.

“That went well,” Rider tried to joke, then winced when he moved the wrong way. Felix’s scowl deepened. “Er, I don’t suppose you can heal me at all?” Somehow, Rider was unsurprised when Felix walked over and placed his hand on Rider’s shoulder. His palm seemed to crackle then, without warning, Rider felt every nerve light up. He had never been hit by lightning, but one of his men had and recounted it feeling like being torn apart all at once.

This was every fiber being ripped to pieces and then stitched back together with a rusty needle. A gasp left Rider’s throat, but before he could form enough coherency to scream, it was over. He looked at his hands and at his sides. Other than a few trails of blood and ash on his armor, he was perfectly fine.

“Thank you, Master,” Rider said, surprised by his own sincerity. “We should go before the human authorities arrive.”

“Yes.” Felix opened the car and got in. Rider almost expected him to drive off without him, which was a stupid thought — Felix took the passenger seat, after all.

Rider, even in his post-battle haze, recalled enough decency to shed his armor in a snow of black ash before getting in. He grinned at Felix, wrapping his hands around the steering wheel. It felt stiff and lifeless after being able to experience the sensation of flight again.

“Where to, Master?”

Felix was quiet for a moment.

“Master?” Rider wondered if he had misjudged, if there really was nothing there but a man who wanted to win so badly that he didn’t care how he got there. Only, that made no sense.

 _He hasn’t ordered you to hurt anyone innocent,_ Rider thought. _Only other combatants._

“I know you did it to win, but we would have to be idiots to think that no one else saw your Noble Phantasm. We will have to proceed carefully,” Felix said slowly. He flexed his hand, the one with the Seals. They looked too perfect. Rider thought they should look more like scars. “Can you use your Noble Phantasm inside?”

Rider laughed. “Do you think I _should_?”

Felix shook his head.

“Exactly. At least I did not need to reveal my full strength.”

"That was not your full strength?" Felix sounded incredulous. He didn't look Rider in the eyes.

"It was not. Nidhogg is my mount. My full Noble Phantasm allows me to rend the very fabric of reality. It is not to be trifled with." Thankfully, Felix did not ask Rider to elaborate.

Rider ran a hand through his hair. A few strands stuck. He realized, with a frown, that there was blood matted there. He was surprised that it hadn't disappeared with his armor. Something told him that his armor would be spotless the next time he donned it.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

“Do you now understand why I could not summon my mount when you asked? Why I do not use my power without need? I am one of the strongest in the Rider class, but that comes at a price."

Again, there was silence. Rider looked down at his brightly colored shirt. It was nice, playing at being mortal. It was nice to pretend that there was a chance at a normal existence.

"Let's reconvene at Annette's. I'm sure she would want to know what happened here." Felix didn't say anything else during the drive.

****

"I did recon all day. At one point, I thought we spotted Lancer, but he didn't engage," Annette said. She pointed to a spot on the map. "Caster and their Master have been quiet and none of my wards were triggered while we were out. If we are being watched, they're doing a good job hiding it."

Behind her, Saber shifted a little to the left. He was still in his armor. Rider wondered if Annette had offered to buy him clothes, or if she didn't care. It did make Rider feel a bit self-conscious, wearing a brightly colored button-up and jeans while Saber was right there.

If Felix was annoyed that Annette had nothing to show from a day's work, he didn't show it. He nodded as he cast a careful look over the map. Rider thought that his eyes lingered on the mall, which was not an insignificant section, but Felix's phone started to vibrate before he could speak.

Felix sighed. Saber and Rider shared an expression — _look at what I have to deal with,_ Rider tried to convey. Saber seemed torn between apathy and annoyance at the entire situation.

"Who is it?" Annette asked.

Felix answered his phone with a sigh and said,

"Ingrid, what do you want?" His face remained passive, but it was impossible to miss the way to crooked his eyebrow up. "You don't say. Thanks." He hung up.

"What was it?" Annette leaned over the table as if she would get a faster answer by being closer.

"She said she killed Assassin." Felix tucked his phone away.

"Do you trust her?" Saber spoke, low enough that Rider strained to hear him. Felix shrugged. Saber glanced at Annette. She also shrugged.

“What do we do next, Master?” Rider interrupted, desperate not to see this go in circles. “If Lancer has indeed killed Assassin and we’ve killed Archer, that leaves Berserker, Caster, and Lancer himself.” Rider didn’t like that he hadn’t seen Lancer yet, but he supposed that would come when the time was right. If Felix wasn’t worried, then Rider wouldn’t be either.

“I’m worried about Caster,” Felix confessed.

“Agreed. You said that you found a field set up in the mall — someone created that and they must know that they’re going to hurt people with it.” Annette pounded one hand on the table. “We cannot let that happen.”

“Then we kill Caster,” Felix finished. Rider rolled his shoulders. His shirt was tight against his muscle.

“Point me in the right direction,” he said.

Saber looked at Annette, who nodded. "I agree with Felix," she said. "Tomorrow, we will confront Caster. Their base will be well-defended, but I didn't spend all those years studying runes and sigils to be perturbed now."

"Good. Between Rider and Saber, we should have no problems."

"I agree," Rider said.

A moment passed between the four. Rider fidgeted with a button. Felix adjusted his ponytail. Annette cleared her throat. Saber shifted his weight a little to the side. Rider looked at him. Saber looked back. There was nothing in these golden eyes and Rider hated it.

"Do you have a problem?" Rider asked.

Saber took his sweet time answering. "No," he settled on, the least satisfying _No_ that Rider had ever gotten.

"You keep looking at me like I'm something you stepped in. Did I offend you in my past life? Sleep with your sister or something?" Rider challenged. Felix pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Rider, you—"

"I have never met you, but I know you. A man like you fights only for his own wants. My Master has a noble goal and your Master seems an honorable type. I will not allow your impudence to sully our alliance. I do not trust you enough to fight beside you." It was the most Saber had ever said in front of Rider, and of course it was an insult.

Rider bared his teeth, though he had a feeling that his floral shirt took away from his intimidating presence.

"I am many things, but I do not betray my allies. This is a war that I intend to see through the end. Choose your next words carefully, Saber. I would withdraw any insult, unless you want me to prove my worth on the battlefield."

"No one is fighting anyone," Annette yelled, glaring at Saber. "What has gotten into you?"

Saber, surprisingly, seemed chastised by her. He gave her a stiff bow. “I apologize,” he told her. He even sounded like he was telling the truth. “With your permission, I would begin my patrol.”

Annette nodded. Two pairs of eyes followed Saber as he left, not just disappearing but actually walking to the door and opening it. He closed it behind him with a soft _click_. Felix had his gaze on Rider. It was almost as unnerving as when Saber’s emotionless expression was focused on him.

“Tomorrow we’ll go fight Caster. I’ll see what got into him.” Annette shook her head. “I hope you aren’t too offended, Rider.”

“Not at all, my lady.” Rider beamed at her. “You cannot be held responsible for the feelings of someone so stubborn. Besides, I’ve heard far worse. He will see that he’s wrong,” he lied.

“Well, I still wouldn’t want you to think that we both think that. I think that you’re a very good Servant. Felix is lucky to have you.”

“I think that Rider is lucky that I’m his Master,” Felix muttered. Annette laughed. Rider shrugged.

“I’ve learnt to never argue with a pretty lady, Master.”

Felix rolled his eyes even as Annette continued to giggle. She was blushing, but she didn’t swoon or look at all distracted. Rider could still tell how sharp her gaze was and he realized, with an unpleasant jolt, that she was less amused by his comments and more by Felix’s reaction.

 _You do not need to charm her. She will end up being the enemy,_ Rider told himself. It was hard, though, to see someone so young and remember that he might have to kill her at any moment. _Even if Master does not wish it… only one person can win this War._

“Well, regardless, I hope you both sleep well.” Annette went around the table to hug Felix. He didn’t return it beyond a singular pat on the back, but he didn’t push her away. Annette hesitated before opening her arms towards Rider. “I know you aren’t my Servant, but you’re keeping Felix safe.”

Rider looked at Felix, who seemed intent on not influencing this — he was picking at his nails, even though there couldn’t have been anything underneath them. Annette was standing there. Time was passing quickly — was it too late? Did Rider laugh it off?

“Thanks,” he said, patting Annette on the shoulder and feeling like an utter idiot. She just gave him a soft smile. If Rider squinted, he might have called it pity.

“Well, night!” She turned and left the room.

It felt drafty and yet dense in the chamber. Rider had been in many meetings, usually getting a verbal thrashing by one person or another. He would prefer that to this situation. Everything felt a little more intense when he was nothing but a heroic spirit.

Felix sighed. He looked warily at Rider. In that moment, he looked older than his twenty-something years.

“What do you think of Saber?”

Rider laced his fingers behind his neck, trying to come off as apathetic and well-aware that he was landing somewhere in _Trying Too Hard_ instead. It was the only thing he knew.

“Do you think you can work with him?” Felix continued. _Oh, of course._ It made sense — Felix was the Master and Rider was the Servant. All that mattered was that Rider complete the task set in front of him.

“I have no fear about winning the War, if that is what you are asking.” Rider raised an eyebrow. “I must ask you, Master, if you are prepared to kill Annette if it comes to that.”

“It will not. We both agreed that we will back down if our Servant is killed.” Felix sounded so certain that Rider almost hated to argue with him.

Almost. This was his war as much as it was Felix’s, after all.

“You cannot guarantee that will happen. If the person between you and victory is Annette, what will you do?” Rider dropped his arms, choosing to cross them over his chest. “I will do anything that it takes to win this war, Master. Are you prepared to tell me otherwise?”

The seals on Felix’s hand glowed. Felix stepped close to him, glaring up at him with eyes that sparked like lightning. His mana actually flowed from his body, filling the room — mana was intangible, but for a heroic spirit it was pure energy.

Rider took a deep breath. He felt like he was in a storm. He expected it to start raining. His previous injuries were entirely forgotten. _If this is him with half his crests,_ Rider wondered, _what would he be like with all of them?_

As if reading Rider’s thought’s Felix noticed what was happening and stood down, face shuttering closed and his circuits figuratively snapping shut. He wrapped his arms around his torso, face angled away from Rider.

“There’s no point in winning if you have to sacrifice your ideals to get there,” Felix said slowly. “I’ll do anything to win but that. I won’t compromise on my beliefs to win. You already know that. We talked about the mall. I won’t do that and you wouldn’t want me to do that either.”

He was right, unfortunately. But…

“Those are innocent people. Annette knows what this entails. She’s different.” Rider tried to imagine having to kill Annette. She was young, younger than Felix certainly. She had opened her home to him. She was, apparently, like a sister to Felix.

Rider had killed women before. He knew, logically, that he probably had killed civilians — if not directly, then at least as a result of his decisions. He didn’t like it, but there was no controlling the chaos when you rode a wyvern. Felix didn’t need to know that, though, and Rider had no intention to tell him.

It was cute, in a way, to see Felix determined to come out of this the same man.

“I will use a Command Seal on you if I have to,” Felix muttered. Rider spread his arms wide.

“Then use it. We win or we lose. If you get lucky, someone else will kill Saber before we have to. I wouldn’t count on it, though. Do you think I can kill Saber? Do you want to find out?” Rider leaned against the table. It creaked anxiously under his weight, as if it could sense the burden on his shoulders. “I’m just telling you the truth, Master. What about — We killed Archer today, but his Master escaped. What will you do if she rejoins the fight?”

“If we kill Petra, I won’t lose sleep over it.”

Rider believed him. Felix scowled, creases aging his face by several years.

“This is stupid. I’m going to bed. You can patrol or sleep or whatever it is that Servants do at night.” Felix turned around, heading out the door. “I might be a mage, but I’m still human. Are you truly so ancient that you’ve forgotten your own humanity?” Felix left the door open behind him. Rider could hear his words echo in his own head.

****

Unlike the Glocester estate, the Hresvelg hideout was in the center of the city. It meant that they had to wait for the next night to fall — fewer people meant fewer witnesses to worry about. They all crowded into Felix's car — _"Hey, Felix, what happened to your seats?"_ _Annette asked_. _"Don't worry about it," Felix told her_ — and headed downtown.

Saber sat in the back. Out of interest to not get pulled over by the first cop to notice that Saber was fully armed like some ancient Chinese warrior, they had once more raided Felix's clothes. These fit Saber better than when Rider had tried the same thing — Felix and Saber were almost the same height, though Saber was a bit taller.

He had outright refused to try Rider’s clothes. Annette hadn’t forced the issue. There were some things, Rider knew, that were lost causes.

"Can I play music?" Annette asked as they started the drive. Felix reached down and pulled a black cord out off the floor. He pushed a button on the console to switch away from the radio before handing Annette the cable. She grinned. "Thank you!"

They were driving for about half an hour when Annette suddenly gasped, her eyes widening.

“Stop the car,” she ordered. Rider glanced at Felix, who nodded. As quick as he safely could, Rider pulled over. The tension in the car was the antithesis of the bubbly music that wafted from the speakers.

“What happened?” Felix asked, twisting in his seat to look her in the eyes. It was a good idea in theory, but Annette had her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to focus.

“The wards — someone is trying to break into the house.” Annette flexed her hand. “I think they will hold, but they’re strong.”

“Caster strong?” Felix replied.

“I don’t know,” Annette said. “But I don’t like it. We should go back to check it out.”

Rider raised an eyebrow. “Do you have anything of critical importance at the house?”

“Yes, it’s my _house_ ,” Annette told him like it was obvious. “Not all of us can afford to replace everything in a moment’s notice. Besides, it’s a terrible idea to let the enemy just walk all through our base. They could leave traps or wards of their own.”

“So we cannot let them continue.” Rider glanced at Saber, who was tapping a nonsensical pattern on the car door. “One of us goes back, the other goes ahead.”

Felix and Annette both adopted expressions with varying levels of shock. Rider waved a hand in the air.

“It makes sense. One of us should be more than strong enough to kill Caster.”

“I agree with Rider,” Saber said.

“Thank you. Wait, really?”

“Yes.” Saber placed a hand on Annette’s back. She looked at him and a silent understanding passed between them. “We can kill Caster. My Noble Phantasm will protect me from anything they could hope to do. Besides, I am the better duelist.”

Rider couldn’t argue with that. He had told Felix the same thing. There was something interesting there, though — was Saber’s Noble Phantasm not offensive? His swords were iconic parts of his persona — it was what his entire class was named after. But Rider supposed that it wasn’t entirely irrational to assume that one’s armor could be a Noble Phantasm. Just felt like a waste, was all.

He decided not to question it.

“Sure. Felix and I can chase off whoever was rude enough to visit while we weren’t home.” Rider looked at Felix. “Shall we leave the lady with the car?”

“Saber can drive, can’t you?” Annette waited for Saber to nod before continuing. “Rider can transport you two anywhere, right?”

“You would think so,” Felix muttered, not without a sharp look at Rider. “Take the car. Try not to wreck it. I am planning on fixing the upholstery once this is all over.”

“I will return your car in one piece,” Saber stated. He was so even-toned that Felix shot him a look, as if he could sense his motives with just a quick once-over.

After a quick swap of places, Annette and Saber were leaving for Caster and Felix and Rider were standing on the side of the street.

“So, Master, do you have a plan?” Rider asked, cheerily squinting into the darkness. There were lamps and the overall light pollution meant that it was still brighter than any forest he had camped out at, but it felt gloomier. He almost wished that it was raining, if just to give Felix something to actually look sour about rather than the fact that his Servant couldn’t summon a ride for casual travel despite that being his literal job description.

Rider didn’t like it either, but he didn’t plan on airing that grievance with Felix.

“Yes.” Felix didn’t appear happy about it. “I need you to summon your mount.”

“Master? Are you certain?” Rider examined the skyline. There were a number of tall buildings, but they weren’t deep enough in the city for them to count as skyscrapers. Still…

“I am. Do it, Rider. Whoever is trying to take advantage of us will pay.” Felix rolled his shoulders. “If the enemy does not know what your mount is, then they are blind and deserve to die.”

It was the same harsh Felix whom Rider was used to — it was comforting as much as it was cold. Rider just nodded and, slowly, raised two fingers to his lips. When he whistled, the sky broke in two. Wind and a flash of red light consumed Rider until he was back to his usual attire. The Lance of Ruin twitched for blood.

The area warmed, first gradually and then to the point where Rider was sweating profusely in his armor. The sky gaped, a red scar that glowed with energy.

Out of the tear in the sky, a wyvern made of smoke and fire and stone-like leather fell like a comet. It spread its wings and swooped down, twisted claws carving patterns in the concrete. Both Felix and Rider winced. There was a tight feeling in Rider’s chest, almost indigestion but worse.

“I thought I recovered more mana,” Felix confessed. “Let’s fly quickly and pray that it’s Caster.”

Rider had no argument. He swung himself into the saddle and then lowered a hand for Felix. There was the briefest hesitation, but Rider just rolled his eyes and shoved his hand forward so that he almost hit Felix in the nose.

“This is no time for pride, Master.”

Wrinkling his nose, Felix allowed Rider’s assistance into the saddle. Once they were both properly balanced, Rider kicked his heels into Nidhogg’s sides. Felix yelped as they began to fly. Rider was glad that Felix couldn’t see his smirk.

****

It was Berserker.

His master was a slim figure. Rider thought that Annette was tiny, but this Master was at least as short and possibly thinner. He was difficult to make out from a distance, cloaked not only in magic but in dark clothes, but the presence of purple flames rolling off Berserker and his sword was hard to ignore.

As Rider flew a wide arc over the place Annette and Felix called home, he could feel Berserker look up. It sent a shiver down his spine. If Felix felt anything, he didn’t say.

“I can drop you off a few blocks away—” Rider started to say, but Felix twisted around and _glared._ “Understood,” Rider mumbled. “Hold on tight, Master.”

Without waiting for affirmation, Rider tucked his arms in close and had Nidhogg swoop lower. He held back its flames by sheer willpower, well aware that he shouldn’t torch this street. Berserker’s Master spun and threw a hand up in Rider’s direction. He cursed as several blasts of wind, each tinged green by mana, lashed out.

Berserker stopped his attempt at tearing down the house wall, which was just as well. As Rider made an emergency landing in the street, he got an eyeful of the damage. Hardly ten minutes had passed in the time it took Rider and Felix to arrive, but the wall was almost entirely broken through. He had to hand it to Annette though. The glittering orange and gold wards still flickered there, even if it was barely protecting rubble.

“I will deal with Berserker’s Master,” Felix snarled. “You take care of Berserker. You have permission to do anything you need. Try not to destroy the house.” And, quick as he could, Felix jumped from Nidhogg’s back. He rolled on the landing, sprinting to the left.

Rider could see Berserker and his Master size Felix up, but he didn’t give them a chance to attack. Nidhogg reared up on its back legs and roared, the sound more similar to a furnace than a bear.

“I am Rider, the fastest of the Servants. Last time we fought, I could not use my full strength. Now—” He yelped, a slash of flames cutting close. Nidhogg twisted out of the way and flapped its wings once, twice, three times until they were airborne again.

“Berserker, kill Rider.” The voice was magically enhanced, loud enough for Rider to hear over the beating of blood in his ear. Even if he hadn’t, there was no mistaking the way Berserker looked at him and screamed.

 _There is no way he can get me from there,_ Rider thought. Nidhogg rolled away from another arc of flame. The air was cool, but the immediate sensation of fire still left Rider’s face flushed. Nidhogg built up a ball of fire in its throat, which Rider shoved down. He would be fine. His mobility would be enough to equalize the power imbalance. From this high up, Rider could get a hand on the situation without worrying about being cut in two.

At least, that was what Rider thought until Berserker jumped in the air, swinging his massive sword like it was made from air.

“Dammit,” Rider spat, pushing Nidhogg into a dive. His lance flashed in the air as he swooped past Berserker, but Berserker’s sword spun with frightening alacrity. Metal-on-metal let out a scream as they passed one another.

Rider pulled out of the movement, swooping upwards to try to skewer Berserker on the return. His lance went right through Berserker’s shoulder. Berserker’s sword cut at Rider and it passed through his armor like a hot knife through butter. A hot flash of blood shot from the cut, but was immediately sealed by the flames, which was probably the only reason Nidhogg didn’t dematerialize right there. Still, Rider’s side felt like agony and he could barely pull his lance back.

Berserker made the split-second decision to grapple Nidhogg’s horns with one hand, his sword still held up from the strength in his bulging muscles. His biceps were almost as wide as Rider’s torso.

“You really could make a guy self-conscious,” Rider hissed, adjusting his grip on the reins. He spun his lance in the air, a bit of blood flying from the tip and smearing onto his cheek.

With an unfortunate amount of effort, Rider tried to swipe at Berserker with the flat of his spear. The idea was to push him off and send him falling a few hundred feet — surely even Berserker couldn’t just walk that off? But Berserker took the blow right to the chest and just glared.

“Kill… Stop… Pain…” Berserker gnashed his teeth together. He threw himself up off of Nidhogg’s head, boots digging into its snout, and used his momentum to try to tackle Rider out of the saddle.

A quick yank of the reins and Rider spun them upside-down. Berserker flew to the side, but his sword flashed purple before it dug into Nidhogg’s side. Hot ashes and embers flew from the wound. Nidhogg screamed, the sound of a bonfire roaring in Rider’s ears. He winced, his own injury still throbbing. He had no idea how Berkerser was still holding on, couldn’t tell if the squint was out of pain or effort or just a side effect of madness.

Rider didn’t bother to learn. He grit his teeth and let go of the reins, his legs squeezing tight around Nidhogg’s neck so he wouldn’t fly off. He took the Lance of Ruin in both hands. The metal was warm — or maybe everything was, his own armor starting to bake him alive. Rider hissed as a hot ember, right on cue, whizzed by his eye and left a mark on his face.

He looked at Berserker. There was no sympathy there. There was no emotion other than rage but, more frightening than anything else, there was still something deeply intelligent in those eyes.

“Kill… kill,” Berserker growled. Rider swallowed.

“I will kill you.” He twirled the Lance of Ruin for momentum and, with a single thrust, struck Berserker in the chest.

At least, he would have.

Berserker’s sword slipped, cutting further into Nidhogg’s neck. The beast thrashed in pain — it may have been a shell of its former self, but it still could feel. Rider was forced to grasp the reins or be thrown from his own mount and, as a consequence, his own side lit up in a chaotic burst of pain. Berserker’s sword flared up and he actually started to glow — not just his blade, but his entire body.

Rider stared as Berserker, in a precarious position, thrust one hand into Nidhogg’s flesh. Berserker hauled himself up even as Nidhogg continued to try to throw both friend and foe off. The smell of ash was almost overpowering. Between Nidhogg and Berserker, Rider felt like everything was on fire.

He tried to swing his lance, but Berserker knocked one blow aside and just took the second thrust to the torso. He grunted but otherwise didn’t react. His blood dripped in the sky, darker than a normal human’s. Rider, absentmindedly, wondered if it was the Emblem’s corruption.

The taste of ozone in his mouth was what gave Rider the idea.

Berserker was practically on top of him, and if it weren’t for his sword’s position lodged in Nidhogg’s throat, Rider had no doubt that he would be skewered on it. Nidhogg couldn’t attack something on its back, and Felix was nowhere to be seen — in the fighting, they had once more started to fly towards the city. The buildings were taller, no longer the nice and affluent suburb where Annette made her home.

Rider issued one last command to Nidhogg, their bond breaking up as Nidhogg started to disappear. With great effort, his mount turned towards the nearest building and began to descend.

Berserker, Rider, and the remnants of Nidhogg flew into the side of an office building at top speed. Rider was flung forward, barely sensible enough to duck and roll. He could hear Berserker screaming in anger somewhere. His heart throbbed as Nidhogg let out a final cry before erupting into ash and dust.

But he didn’t have time to mourn. He picked up the Lance of Ruin — still covered in blood, still glowing, still _hungry_ — and quickly gathered his wits. The building seemed to be under construction. There were tarps everywhere, no furniture, and the side of the room furthest from him was still bare to the world.

 _Well, at least no one else is here._ Rider took a step forward. His body reminded him that he had almost been cut in half, that there was fire in his blood, that he was dying—

He grit his teeth and forced himself to keep moving.

Berserker was not a quiet Servant. Rider heard him come crashing through the building long before he saw him. He raised his lance and parried the first violent blast of fire, dodged the second one, and threw himself over the third. He spun in the air, covering an abnormal amount of ground and thrusting his spear forward. Berserker caught it in the hilt of his sword. He reached out and grabbed Rider’s arm, crushing it in a meaty hand before throwing him across the room.

Rider was unsurprised that Berserker could lift him and toss him around like a doll. He was still a bit stunned when he went through a window.

 _Fuck._ Rider looked at the ground. It was distant, but rapidly approaching. Could he survive the fall? Probably, but Berserker would then stomp on whatever was left. Could he stop his descent? Craning his head to the side, he could tell he was too far to even try to reach the closest building.

Then, a miracle — he felt a tug in his chest. His head squeezed tight, like he was suddenly under a great deal of water, before something popped.

Rider skid across the ground, his armor steaming as if he had been red hot and dragged through a lake. A few locks of hair fell in his face and bile rose in his throat. He spat to the side, eyes flicking around quickly as he tried to gain his bearings.

He was back at the house. Felix was standing on the lawn, an honest-to-God sword and shield in his hands. He was breathing heavily and there was a nasty cut on his arm, but he had all of his limbs and seemed conscious, so Rider would take it.

Across from him stood Berserker’s Master. As Rider had thought, Berserker's Master was a slim mage in dark clothes. He had long hair that was so dark it was almost black, but shimmered with a hint of green. His eyes were red as the blood that trickled from his nose and was splattered on his clothes. He was favoring his right leg — _at least Master fought back for a time,_ Rider thought.

"Rider," Felix gasped, holding his hand up. There was one seal missing, the seal that he had used to force Rider to his side no longer bright against his skin. "You look like shit."

"You don't look much better," Rider replied with a wince. He held his lance out. "I take it that you needed me?"

"Berserker!" The enemy mage cried. His seals began to glow.

"Rider, attack!" Felix said a moment after, though it was hardly necessary. Rider dashed forward, the last of his energy running through his veins.

His lance flew through the air, piercing the target through his chest. Not a moment later, Berserker materialized next to his Master. Rider didn't have time to reach before Berserker's sword swung down, cutting deep into Rider's armor and almost serving his arm from his body.

Rider threw himself back, stumbling over his own two feet. He could hear Felix scream his name but it sounded muffled, as if Felix were very far.

A flash of lights made Rider think that this was it, but no — it was a jet-black car, a familiar sight. Rider didn’t question its presence, too relieved to care. The driver's door opened as Rider hit the ground, the air leaving his immaterial lungs. Berserker stood over him, sword raised for another attack. The Lance of Ruin was on the ground, not three inches from his fingertips, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get it in time. He glared up at Berserker, at least determined to die with dignity.

Rider's eyes went wide when Felix appeared in front of him, his shield glowing so bright it was blinding. Berserker's blade hit the construction with a resounding _boom_ and the blast of energy made Rider fly away, even though he was already prone. He heard Felix cry out, saw him get knocked back into the house wall.

Saber — because of course he was here, and so was Annette, a chilling scream coming from her lips — dashed forward. He moved incredibly quickly with his armor, one sword out stretched. He sliced at Berserker, made the Servant back off as his Master also stumbled back. Blood was dripping down the mage's front and he looked like he was on his last legs.

Rather than back away like a sane person, he bared his teeth. They were stained red.

"Berserker, kill Rider's Master."

Felix was still unmoving. Rider staggered to his feet and began to go to his side, but he was too injured to move with any great speed. Berserker shoved Saber aside, not caring as Saber's sword went through his hand. He might as well have been a fly buzzing around an elephant, for all Berserker seemed to care.

The bloodied Berserker raised his sword, purple flames pulsing in an erratic beat. Saber's mouth opened as he lunged forward, but Berserker acted first.

His sword came down. Saber threw himself in the path. Felix was spared the barrage of flames. Saber was fully engulfed in them.

"Saber!" Annette shouted. She threw a hand out and several marble-sized fireballs shot out of her fingertips. Berserker's Master cursed, barely throwing a shield up in time. He glared at her, but he seemed to hesitate when Berserker let out a low whine.

"Withdraw," he muttered. Rider managed to get to his feet in time to watch Berserker scoop his Master up and, quicker than an arrow, shot off into the night.

It was quiet except for the low crackle of flames in the lawn and Rider's own labored breath. He stumbled over to Felix, who was trying to sit up.

"Stay down," Rider ordered, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder. The side that had hit the wall was busted up _bad_. Rider had seen some serious injuries, and he didn't even want to think about the pain Felix had to be in. Which— "How are you alive?"

Felix glared up at him but didn't struggle. He was breathing through clenched teeth.

"It hurts," Felix stated, an understatement if Rider had ever heard one. "Saber?"

Rider looked over at the other Servant. Annette was kneeling next to a badly burnt figure, talking softly. Her lips were moving but Rider couldn't make anything out. He watched, his chest tightening, as Saber raised a hand up and cradled Annette's face. Then, with a sigh, his body turned to pale silver light and dissolved like morning mist.

Looking back at Felix, Rider knew that he didn't have to say it. He still shook his head once. Felix squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck."


	3. Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a hot second! Executive function has not been my friend and I've been working on other big bang projects lol 
> 
> But here we are! I hope you enjoy ^^

It took several minutes for any of them to move. Felix could hardly go to the hospital, so in the end he allowed Rider to carry him to the bath. He still glared furiously enough that Rider felt the heat when Rider dared offer to help bathe him. 

Annette muttered something about resting and went to Felix's room. Rider couldn't blame her. Sometimes, after the loss of a companion, the last thing a person wanted was to be alone. 

Rider stood outside the bathroom door as Felix cleaned himself, his own armor covered in blood and soot. His lance was dematerialized, but he couldn't shake the need to be covered in something sturdier than flimsy fabric. 

When Felix emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, he looked… well, not  _ good _ . His torso had a long gash on the side, the cut on his arm was bright red, and he had more bruises than not across his body. There were old scars too, two on his chest and a few old burns in odd places, like the small of his back and the back of his right thigh. 

"What are you looking at?" Felix snarled, eyes narrowing. 

"How are you  _ walking _ ?" Rider asked. 

"I heal fast." 

"You were almost cut in two." 

Felix shrugged. "I'll be fine. Where's Annette?" 

Rider gestured towards Felix's room. Felix nodded and stepped away. 

"Take a shower," Felix said as he disappeared around the corner. Rider frowned. He'd never taken a shower in his life. 

It felt good to wash water over his body and go through the process of getting clean. He could have dematerialized and done the same thing, but it was soothing to let the spray fall over his face and chest. The warmth was appreciated too. It let him muse on recent events, review the fight with Berserker with careful consideration. And then Saber's appearance… 

_ What was he hoping to accomplish? _ Rider wondered.  _ Did his Noble Phantasm fail? But what kind of Saber-class Servant has a defensive Noble Phantasm? _

Even though Felix must have been in there for ages, it still took quite a while before the water started to chill. Rider barely realized it until he stared at his fingers and noticed that he was starting to shiver. 

_ Why would Saber risk his life for an enemy Master? _

Once out of the shower, he stole a towel out of the cabinet and dried his hair, though he finally could relax enough to don the outfit Felix had purchased for him. Was it really just a day or two ago? It was hard to imagine how much had changed in such a short time. 

_ Why would Master risk his life for mine?  _

Rider knocked on the door to Felix's room before entering. Felix had dressed in pajamas and was holding Annette while the two lay in bed. She didn't look like she was crying, but her eyes stared into nothing. It was something so innocent and gentle that Rider felt the urge to apologize as if he were intruding. 

_ Why would Master care about anyone else?  _

"How much mana do you have?" Felix murmured. Rider immediately felt like a fool for his thoughts. He shrugged. "We need to rest. We'll go to the neutral zone tomorrow." 

"I can still fight," Annette said, lifting her head up. "We — We need to kill Caster." 

Something dropped in Rider's stomach. They hadn't even killed Caster? Then they lost Saber and for what? Some extra time bought against Berserker? Rider wasn't any closer to beating him in a fight and Felix couldn't defeat the opposing Master alone. 

If Felix felt the same way, he kept it off his face. 

"We will get revenge for you. This isn't your fight anymore." He frowned, then returned to a neutral expression. His left eye kept twitching. Annette wasn't facing him, but Rider could see it clear as day. "I can't let you get hurt and I can't protect you. The neutral zone is our only choice." 

"I can fight," Annette insisted. 

"With what Servant?" Rider asked. Felix glared at him, but it held no heat. "Saber was brave but stupid. I don't know why he protected my Master, but I will honor his sacrifice by returning the favor. You cannot continue this war." 

"A Master can still find another Servant." Annette twisted around so she could glare at Felix. "Would you quit if Rider died?" 

"That's different. Besides, a new contract can only be made if the original Master has used all their Seals and if the Servant is interested," Felix reminded her. "I'm sorry Saber is dead, Annette, but I won't let you throw your life away. I'm taking you to the church tomorrow." 

Annette opened her mouth to keep arguing, but Rider cut her off. 

"Why did Saber protect Felix?" Rider leaned against the wall, trying to look casual even though the question had been burrowing in his head over since his shower. "Did you use a Command Seal?" 

"No." Annette looked guilty, but Felix just shrugged. "I told him to protect Felix, but I never ordered him to sacrifice himself." 

"I understand." Felix could have been lying, but he didn't sound like it. Rider decided to put a pin in that line of thought. 

"Saber wanted to protect people," Annette continued. "Maybe that's why he… let himself die…" 

"You don't even believe yourself." Rider hesitated. Felix was looking at him with those cautious golden eyes. Ones that Rider had seen before — almost. "My lady, please. If there is anything that you know…" 

Annette frowned. Rider felt the temptation to intimidate her into speaking but the overwhelming urge was to sweet talk her. He wasn't sure which was worse. Thankfully, Felix picked up on the fact that  _ something _ was happening, even if he didn't know what Rider was starting to dread. 

"I — I don't know what you're trying to say." Annette glanced at Felix, then at Rider. "Saber said his wish was to help his family. He never said more than that." 

"Annette," Felix said in a cautious tone, "I never asked who Saber was — when he was in the War, it did not feel fair to ask. But now, with what happened… if it's important for us to know…" 

Silence. A car drove past the house, music blaring, and then faded away. 

"He asked me not to tell you. I promised not to tell you." Annette rubbed at her eyes. "Felix, it doesn't matter. He's gone. He can't come back." 

Rider's blood ran cold. He swallowed down a few choice answers. 

Felix looked like he swallowed a lemon. Annette looked away, her eyes glancing at the picture that sat on the bedside table. 

_ Where is your family?  _

_ They died.  _

"If you blame me for his death…" 

"What? No," Annette insisted. Her eyes snapped back to Felix. "I knew this was a possibility. When we agreed to fight in the War, we knew that we would eventually have to fight each other. Only one person can win the War." 

Felix didn't look convinced. Rider didn't care. 

"Master, may I ask you something?" 

"What do you want, Rider?" He sounded annoyed, as if Rider were nothing more than a fly that wouldn't stop buzzing, but his attention was on Rider now. 

"When did your parents die?" 

A pin could have dropped and it would have been the loudest sound in the room. Felix's face twisted into frustration then, to Rider's concern, sorrow.

"Why do you care?" His voice dripped bitterness. Rider looked at Annette, who didn't meet his eyes. 

He waited. He could afford it. 

"Rider, why do you care about my family?" Felix repeated. "What are you not telling me?" 

"It's Saber," Annette whispered. 

Felix stared at her. "What are you saying?" 

"Servants can be summoned from any time or any place. They just have to make a name for themselves in life so they can serve in death." Annette clutched the sheets, twisting the fabric tight. "I wanted to tell you, but he — he told me that it would make it harder. He didn't want you to hesitate." 

"Annette, I don't understand." Felix slid out of the bed. He held himself upright like a metal rod had replaced his spine, but his hands shook just enough for Rider to notice. "Why would Saber care? Why would I have hesitated?" 

"Because he was your brother!" Annette buried her head in her hands. "Saber — Glenn — he was so careful. He was a lot like you." 

Rider, who thought that Saber was Felix's father, decided that this was worse. 

Felix started to laugh. Rider didn't blame him, not even as the peels of laughter became more and more mirthless, hysteria building as Felix clutched his sides. 

"This — is this some kind of twisted joke?" He asked. 

"I wouldn't do that to you," Annette promised, looking back at Felix with wide eyes. Rider knew she told the truth. 

"I thought so too," Rider said. "Your eyes were too similar. Looking at him reminded me of you." 

Felix shook his head. 

"No, you're wrong." But he didn't sound certain. "Servants are always from the past. And Glenn — he's dead. He was barely sixteen. You look me in the eyes and tell me that Saber was sixteen." 

"He knew everything. He knew things that I didn't even know." Annette wrung her hands. "I grew up with Glenn too, Felix. I would have been able to tell if he was lying." 

"Any time, any place," Rider recalled. "The Emblem is the most powerful magic item in the world. It's the gate  _ to _ magic. Is it possible that Saber came from a different reality?" 

Felix stared at him like Rider had just declared that he was a virgin. Annette was nodding, so Rider didn't feel like a complete fool. 

"He said… in his world, he didn't die after the accident." Annette looked at Felix. "You did." 

_ The accident? Oh, of course. _ Rider could have hit himself — it was obvious. Felix was fighting to regain his family, but he never spoke about them. He must have lost them when he was young, enough so that he grew up with a different mage family. 

Rider knew of noble families that were devastated by war or plague and had the survivors stay with another family for safety. It made sense that mages did the same. 

"Saber was proud of you," Annette continued, almost desperate as she began to ramble. "He kept quiet around you because he didn't want it to be obvious who he was. If he couldn't win, he would have wanted you to, but — he wanted to win." 

The mystery grew deeper, yet became clearer all at once. 

“So my own brother was summoned in the Emblem War that I was fighting in, yet he wouldn’t even talk to me… Of course.” Felix shook his head. “I’m sure he was disappointed. He probably didn’t even recognize me.” 

Annette adopted a sad, soft smile. “He didn’t, no. He thought that you were a younger him.” 

Felix didn’t seem to know what to say to that. In all fairness, Rider didn’t blame him. He didn’t know what he would do if Miklan had been summoned in this war. Then again, it seemed like Glenn was much different than Miklan. Rider couldn’t claim that all older brothers made his skin crawl… 

But he did know something was off about Saber. He just hadn’t been correct on  _ how _ that came up. 

“Annette,” Felix started, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, eyebrows furrowing. “Annette, what did Saber… What did Glenn say before he died?” 

“He said… He called me little sister. He asked me to make sure that you don’t die.” Annette wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry. I know he was your brother. But I couldn’t betray his trust like that.” 

“He was another Felix’s brother,” Rider said. “His name was Glenn, but he was not  _ your _ Glenn.” 

Annette shot him a look but Rider just held his hands up. She opened her mouth to argue, but Felix beat her to it.

“He’s right. My brother died when I was thirteen.” Felix looked at his hands. Rider was still convinced that he should be lying in bed in critical condition. At the very least, he should have some broken bones. There were barely any scrapes on his knuckles. “I need to win the War to bring him and my father back. I am the last of the Fraldarius line. The War already claimed too many of us. No more.” 

“Felix…” Annette fell silent as Felix turned his back on her. He stared at the wall, shoulders hunched. 

“It’s fine. We should sleep.” Felix crossed his arms. “I want to be alone.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to be alone,” he insisted. 

Annette looked like she was going to argue, but Rider reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. He shook his head. Annette swallowed. she hung her head. Her bangs fell in her eyes.

“Fine. good night, Felix.” She left. Rider, with a lingering look, followed in her footsteps. 

****

Rider wouldn’t say that he ambushed Felix the next morning, getting him alone while Annette washed up. But, by most people’s definitions, he may have done a small ambush. A less aggressive one. Felix was alone, Rider had time on his hands and a burning series of questions — it was just the perfect time, that was all. 

“We should talk,” Rider said, watching Felix meditate in the living room. The windows were open, the early morning light filtering over his face. There were dark circles under his eyes and he moved stiffly, but he didn’t move like he was in disastrous levels of pain. 

There were a lot of things Rider wanted to ask, though. The fact that Felix was alive was good, clearly. But he had other fish to fry, as the saying went. 

“How do you feel about the… conversation from last night?” 

Felix didn’t open his eyes. 

“You mean the fact that my dead brother came from another reality where I died?” 

“Yes.”

Felix shrugged. Rider didn’t know what he expected. 

“He didn’t want it to change your feelings towards him. He must have respected you and the War a great deal.” Rider didn’t know what it was like, respecting family. He hadn’t looked up to his father nor his brother and they hadn’t cared for him very much either. 

Then again, he didn’t think he would have been able to kill them. Rumors abounded, but he wasn’t responsible for their deaths. 

“The Fraldarius family is one of the original families. We’ve participated in every War.”

“Including the last one.”

“Yes. My father, according to the stories, won.” Felix said it like he was describing the weather, but Rider’s eyebrows raised up so high they almost jumped off his face. Felix opened his eyes, face deceptively calm. “I don’t know what happened exactly. He would never tell me. All I know is that he went to fight, a few days passed, and then… everything was on fire.” He shuddered. A matching chill went down Rider’s spine. 

“Did he die?” Rider asked. 

“Not until later, but I suspect it was a consequence of what happened. The city… it burned.” Felix focused on a spot on the carpet. “For three days, there was nothing but ash. Even as far as our estate or the Gloucester one… Everyone could see it. We don’t talk about it now because of all the interference the Tower has done, but… It was devastating.” 

Rider had to consult his Emblem-gifted knowledge, but  _ the Tower _ brought up thoughts of a literal mage academy and a group of old, wise mages who kept the community hidden. Sects were placed across the world, but the headquarters was in London.  _ Typical, _ Rider thought,  _ the English always want to be involved in everything. _

“Your brother died then, didn’t he?” He asked, not getting bogged down in details that didn’t matter. 

“Yeah.” 

Rider didn’t have to ask to know that Felix should have too. Something else came to mind though, an inconsistency that was nagging him.

“The War is supposed to happen every sixty years. You are not that old.” 

Felix snorted. “No, I am not. I don’t know why the War happened now, but it was only ten years ago. Not that it matters. If anything, this is in my favor. I won’t be stronger than this. This is the best chance that I have to win.” 

“Is that why you put yourself in danger last night?” Rider asked. He crossed his arms so he could glare down at Felix. “You still could have died.”

“If you die, then the war is over for me. I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this. The next one won’t happen until I’m an old man. This is my only chance.” Felix looked at his command seals. “I took a risk. I did not expect Saber to die in the process.”

“If I die, you have the chance to find another Servant.”

“Weren’t we just arguing this with Annette last night?” Felix pointed out. Rider clenched his jaw. “I may not have intended to summon you, but you cannot say that you would be pleased with the concept of exiting the War early. I do not care how much you lie — you must have a reason to fight for the Emblem.” 

“I am already dead. If I fade from this reality, I return to the Emblem until the next time I am summoned.” It wasn’t a particularly convincing argument and Felix knew it. He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you can return to fight in another sixty years — if you even are summoned again.” Felix stood. He was several inches shorter than Rider, but at that moment Rider didn’t feel it at all. It was strange, looking into Felix’s eyes. Rider kept forgetting what he was trying to say. “You failed as a noble lord, so you wish to reverse that, don’t you? Well, you’re a coward if you think death will allow you to escape your mistakes again.” 

_ I’m the coward? Did he not see how I fought?  _ But even as Rider thought the words, Felix frowned.

“That was unkind of me. You are not a coward. Not a traditional one. But you are scared of something, and I will find out what it is,” he stated in a plain tone. 

Rider groaned. “You act as if there is something you must discover. There is nothing else. You got me — I failed my people and my land. If I could go back, the things I could fix — it’s only proper that I do everything to atone for my waste of a life.” He poked Felix in the chest. “ Which is why you must not throw your life away. When a Master dies, their Servant has only a short time to try to find another source of mana. I cannot sustain myself for long without a Master. You said that you wanted to fight for my dream as well as yours, so act like it and let me do the fighting.” 

The two stared at one another. Rider cleared his throat. 

“We both have things we’re fighting for,” Felix said slowly, “I know that I would die and kill for mine. That is the trouble with a miracle. It doesn’t come for free. So let me decide what risks are worth taking. As your Master, I have the authority here.”

Rider crossed his arms. “I do not respect a Master who makes stupid decisions.”

“I don’t need your respect. I need your obedience.” The two stared at each other. 

There was a knock on the wall. Annette, in a change of clothes and with a backpack slung over one shoulder, gave them a little wave.

“I’m ready to go,” she said. “Are you two done threatening each other?” 

Felix looked away, angling his glare at the floor. Rider held his hands up.

“I don’t think we were threatening anyone. Just — a nice conversation between Servant and Master.” He managed a smile. Annette didn’t look like she bought it for a second. “If you are ready, then I will get the car.” 

He was almost out of the room when Felix called out,

“Rider, you know that everything I do is so that we can win this war.” 

“I know, Master. I am the steel of your sword. You may use me as you see fit.” Rider left without another interruption.

****

Their destination was a small church on the edge of the city, nestled between a Dairy Queen and an abandoned gas station. Rider didn’t believe in ghosts — at least, not anymore, because reality was much worse — but he still felt a shiver down his spine as he got out of the car. The trio made their way past the church gates. There was a sign with the church’s name, but it was too worn for Rider to make anything out. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Annette asked, clutching her backpack tightly. 

“I can’t sense any magic,” Rider added. 

“The church is a neutral zone. No magical presence can get in or out and violence is forbidden. Any mage who breaks the rules would have the full force of the Church — the organization, not the building — against them.” Felix strode forward. “Come on. The sooner you get inside, the better.”

The group was about five paces away from the front door when the old wood creaked open. Two figures stepped out. One was a young woman, maybe even a teenager, with lime green hair. Next to her was an older man, his hair a deep forest green. They both wore matching navy uniforms with gold trim.

“Hello. I am Seteth. I am the priest overseeing this year’s Fire Emblem War.” The man nodded to the three of them.

“I’m Flayn. I’m helping.” The woman smiled. “I’m afraid that your servant cannot be permitted to enter.”

Rider looked at Felix, who didn’t seem surprised. 

“All right. If my master agrees, I will remain outside.” Rider glanced around and located an old bench. He strode over and sat down with an exaggerated grin. “See? Safe and out of the way like a good Servant.” 

Seteth seemed… not pleased, but Rider had a feeling that his face just looked like that. Flayn’s expression grew a little softer, however, and she took Annette’s hand when they walked into the church. The doors closed with a heavy thud behind them. Somewhere, a car backfired. Rider sighed. 

He stared up at the sky. At least it wasn’t raining. 

He sat there for maybe a minute before deciding that following the rules was for Servants who had Masters who would tell them things. He stood up and began walking the perimeter, trying to see what exactly the church was built from. It seemed like it was some old, drafty building, but he knew there had to be more to it than that. 

Rider liked to think that he was clever. At least, he wasn’t stupid. He might not be remembered as some military genius, but that was okay. He never had needed outside validation — had never been able to trust it, more like — and he liked to think he was honest with himself.

After about ten minutes searching for some way to listen or ever get a glimpse inside the church other than breaking one of the stained glass windows, Rider was ready to throw in the towel. 

He glared up at the steeple. A heavy bronze bell sitting there, unmoving in the soft breeze that tangled through Rider’s hair. Rider remembered the bells that rang during the ceremony when he was crowned margrave. He wondered if they had cried out when he died.

The doors to the church creaked open. 

Rider turned, dashing back to the entrance. He didn’t have time to sit, so he pretended to be pacing. It wasn’t that far from the truth, if he had to be complementary honest. 

Felix appeared, face dark. Rider could see Annette speaking with Flayn and, to his surprise, Archer’s Master was also there. 

“You keep your oath, Fraldarius, or I will punish you. Prove that the honor of your family is important,” the mage shouted. Felix didn’t look back. Rider was prepared for a fight, but Felix just indicated for him to get in the car.

He waited for the streets to start changing, rundown buildings giving way for office buildings and apartments, before asking,

“What was Archer’s Master doing?” 

“She is waiting out the rest of the war.” Felix said it very matter-of-fact, as if he wasn’t the reason his fellow mage was essentially under house arrest for the foreseeable future. Rider raised an eyebrow. “What?” Felix returned the look. 

“I thought that you were going to kill her. Are your next commands going to involve infiltrating the neutral zone?” 

Felix snorted. “No. Petra has no Servant and, as she has been removed from the War by her own actions, no Command Seals. She is about as much a threat as a flea.” He didn’t say anything else, so Rider added,

“Why was she talking about a promise?” 

Surprisingly, Felix didn’t seem concerned about that either. “Oh, the homunculus.” 

Rider scanned his brain to try to remember what he was talking about. It took him a moment, but then he remembered — the white-haired woman back at the Gloucester estate. He had, admittedly, not thought about her a second time since the fight. 

“What about her?” 

Now Felix gave him a funny look, his nose scrunched up and his lips a thin line. Rider sighed.

“I’m not a mage. I don’t know how these things work beyond what the Emblem decided to give me, and as we both know, the Emblem is rather picky.” There was a moment of silence as they both remembered how Rider had struggled with the concept of a gas pump for about five minutes while Felix watched. “I know that a homunculus is made out of magic. They’re basically Servants, but less powerful and able to exist separate from a Master.”

“Sort of.” Felix drummed his fingers on the passenger door. “Any mage can create a homunculus, but the Gloucester family specializes in them. They — they are largely used as sources of magical energy that can walk and talk and do — do things. Like chores. But, in the years leading up to the war, there’s always a special one. Since the Gloucester family is not participating in this War, guardianship of the homunculus has fallen to their allies, the Macneary family. Only, Petra has been eliminated.”

“What makes them special?” 

  
“The Gloucesters are the only ones who care enough about that type of magic. My family, for instance, has never bothered with it since it’s too… disturbing.” Felix didn’t expand on that, which was fine with Rider.

“I meant the homunculus,” he corrected. Felix sighed. 

“The Fire Emblem is the name of a source of magical energy, but it doesn’t always have a physical form.” 

“Right.” Rider felt like he was missing something, a gap in the puzzle that was staring him straight in the face. “That’s what the War is for. The winner claims it using — something.” 

“It’s a ritual. You cast a spell using a catalyst and the Emblem is summoned. You can only do it if enough of the competition has… been removed.” Felix danced around the term  _ murdered _ but Rider couldn’t blame him. “Generally you can summon it if at least half the others are no longer participating.” 

Rider was no good at magic, but he had been fairly good at math. 

“So if one more Servant or Master is eliminated, someone could try to summon the Emblem?” Rider could see Felix trying that. It would be folly — Rider was no defensive Servant — but Felix had yet to prove that he wasn’t a rash, inconsiderate mage. 

“Technically, yes. but it takes a great deal of power. There’s a reason that most people will wait until the end of the War.” Felix paused. “I would not until the end, if it were up to me.” It was a kind of reassurance.

There was more silence. This time, Rider waited it out. He had all the time in the world. He was already dead. 

They were almost back to the house when Felix blurted out,

“Aren’t you going to ask?” 

“Ask what?” Rider replied.

“What the catalyst is.” 

_ I want you to say it. _

“I supposed that you would tell me regardless.” 

Felix huffed. He turned away as much as he could in the passenger seat. 

“It’s the homunculus. Whoever has her — it — controls the summoning of the Emblem.” 

“So we need to find her.” 

“Someone else will. And don’t call it a person. They’re just magic in a form.” Felix frowned. “Not — not like you. You have a soul. A homunculus does not.”

“How do you know?” Rider wondered, not intending for Felix to answer. He did, of course, because that was who Felix was as a person. Rider couldn’t say he was surprised. 

“Because only a living thing can have a soul. Homunculi are created from magic — an inanimate source. Most don’t even have personalities. Or, if they do, it’s because their creator gave it to them.” Felix sighed. “You don’t understand. You aren’t a mage.”

_ I understand. _

“I am not a mage, you are right,” Rider said in a neutral tone. “It does not bother me. What you do to win, that is. As long as I am not the one committing the deed, then it hardly matters.” 

Felix shot him another glance, one that was open with surprise. Rider gave him an exaggerated shrug. 

“Well. Good.” Felix leaned back in his seat, once more staring out the window. 

It was starting to get hot out. They had a whole day ahead of them. Rider felt like sleeping. He had recovered a lot of mana overnight, but the amount he had lost… It was unclear to him, even now, how he was supposed to defeat Berserker in a head-on attack. 

_ Master must have a plan, _ Rider thought, watching him out of the corner of his eyes.  _ He seems to always have a plan. _

“What will we do next, Master?” He outright asked, no interest in continuing this line of conversation. 

“Caster is in hiding and Lancer is our ally. I would like to avoid Berserker as much as possible — hopefully his Master has a few wounds to lick and we won’t see him again.” Felix grimaced, but it went away with a shake of his head. “The sigils in the mall — we’ll destroy them tonight.” 

Rider, for once, cracked a genuine smile. There was still something dark in the edges. 

“Good.”

****

The mall’s security was laughable. Felix waved his hand over a scanner and had Rider break a door, and then they were in. There were night guards but, according to Felix, he had just turned all the security cameras into a loop for the next four hours.

“Simple illusion magic, really. Nothing a child couldn’t do,” Felix said when Rider commended him. “Now come, we still have a job to do.” 

Felix admitted that, with the brief amount of time they had spent at the mall, he wasn’t certain the number of sigils nor their locations. To be safe, they would have to explore the whole mall. Rider still didn’t believe in ghosts, but there was something eerie about the space. It seemed to know that they were intruders, knew that this was supposed to be teeming with life and was instead barren.

_ Or maybe all this magic is getting to you, _ Rider thought as he watched Felix kneel by a potted plant.  _ After this is over, you deserve a nice vacation. _

Then again, after this was over… 

“— a thing I’m saying?” Felix snapped his fingers in front of Rider, who blinked and took a step back. “There you are. I was saying, if I show you a sigil, will you be able to help me search?” 

Rider nodded, his throat tight. Felix nodded, didn’t seem to notice what was running through Rider’s head, and gestured for him to follow. With a stiff step, Rider fell in line behind Felix. 

The sigil itself glowed a faint purple and was far too complex for Rider to follow, but it was hard to miss and it made his nose remember dry fields and spring sneezes. He almost asked Felix if that was normal before deciding against it. He doubted it was relevant — he was just caught up in his head again. 

“I can help you find those, but I will not leave you alone. Something about this place…” Rider cast a look at one of the stores. The mannequins stared at him with plastic faces. “It does not sit well with me.”

“Agreed.” Felix rubbed the back of his right hand. “Come on. The sooner we get done, the sooner we can go to sleep.”

They saved the food court for last. Felix presumed that the sigils were strongest there, which was why he was able to sense the field when they were walking through, and so they’d take the longest to deconstruct. Once Felix was confident that the rest of the mall was cleared, they headed over. 

The low murmur of voices reached them far before they turned the last corner. Rider and Felix shared a look. Without saying anything, Rider closed his eyes and focused. When he opened them again, he was in his armor and the Lance of Ruin glowed a faint red, almost like one of the many  _ Exit  _ signs posted throughout the building. 

“Only… Curious… Interference?” The voice was a man’s, one low and cold. Rider felt a shiver down his spine. “Been here a while… Orders, Master?” The last word was audible enough. Any lingering suspicion cleared. 

Rider barely waited for Felix to nod before swinging his lance up and charging around the bend, intent on clearing as much distance as he can before the enemy can react.

The food court was much larger when it was empty, but he was a Servant powered by pure magical energy and emotion and he crossed it in a matter of seconds. To his confusion, he could only see Caster — a tall, rail-thin man in black robes and with a thick tome strapped to his belt — but he quickly surmised that was because the corresponding Master was either invisible or not present. 

“We have been spotted,” Caster muttered. He drew his hands back and the shadows seem to bend around him. “Perish in darkness.”

_ Dramatic bastard, _ Rider thought. He cut through the first shadow that reached for him, dodged the second. A third attack came in the form of a barrage of dark energy, each blasting a hole in the floor or in furniture as Rider easily avoided the volley. He narrowed his eyes. This was a Servant? Felix was a more competent mage than this. 

Rider kicked at a table, knocking it over. He grabbed one leg and tossed it at Caster, forcing the man to leave his shadowy place by the pillar. As he jumped back, Rider leapt up. He grit his teeth as he glared down at Caster. 

“You’ll never hurt anyone again,” Rider swore. 

His lance came down against a magical shield, which cracked but held steady. Rider was reminded of Felix’s construction, though this was more abstract — a simple smear of black against nothingness, not a real weapon by any means. Before Rider could adjust, a shadow came and wrapped around his waist. He was tossed aside like a ragdoll, spinning through the air and landing with no amount of grace. 

Caster seemed to glide forward, propelled by the very shadows at his feet. He flew upwards, tendrils of darkness curling into tentacles and claws. 

“I should have known. A half-mage and his desperate Servant. My Master will be glad to be rid of you,” Caster crooned. Rider got to his feet, a trickle of blood smearing against his lips. “Any last words?” 

“Yeah.” Rider adjusted the grip he had on his lance. “Duck.” He threw his lance. Predictably, Caster swerved out of the way. 

It gave Rider time to leap up and, with all his might, tackle Caster to the ground. He wasn’t very dignified when they were rolling amongst the tables, but Rider was stronger and he was too close for Caster to try formulating any spells. 

Rider threw his full weight into his punches, kneed Caster in the stomach when he tried to grab enough air for an incantation. At some point, a wisp clutched onto Rider’s arm but he just bared his teeth, well aware that there was blood staining them. Rider couldn’t focus enough to summon his lance to him, but Caster couldn’t fight him off this close. 

It was messy and it still hurt — Caster was still a Servant, could still curl his hands into fists and he could slam Rider into a table with gusto — but Rider was winning. They both know that Rider, with a busted lip and heavy, dented armor, was winning. 

Then Caster pulled a knife and lodged it between the joints in Rider’s shoulder armor. 

Pain swam in front of Rider’s eyes and he gasped, falling backwards as Caster’s magic poured into his body. He twitched, the smell of mold and a wet, stuffy room making him want to retch — there had been a brief period of time where his father had decided that he would be temporarily under house arrest in the castle cells. They were probably the worst two weeks of his life. The smell reminded him of that, down to the weird musk of half-rotten wood and the sour tang of cannibalistic rat droppings.

Caster, calm as day, got to his feet. He adjusted his gloves — pale white, the only true color on his greyscale uniform, and looked down at Rider. 

“I ducked,” he said simply. 

Rider managed to get his hand around the dagger and tossed it to the side. He blinked, catching his breath and trying to focus. He’d only have one shot. 

Caster scoffed, thinking he was preparing to die. 

“To think that I would have lost to someone like you.” He raised his hand. Dark energy coalesced around it, a final blow meant to end this without ceremony. 

Rider jumped to his feet, summoned his lance, and skewered Caster through the chest in one fluid motion. Caster gasped. His blood, Rider noted, looked black in the dim light. 

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to think a little harder.” Rider pulled his lance back. Caster fell to his knees and, quietly, dissolved into golden light. 

Felix came running over. He didn’t wait for Rider to ask, placing his hands firmly on Rider’s shoulders. This time, the healing was less like being struck by lightning and more like being shocked on a cold winter day when holding hands with someone — unexpected and sharp, but over in an instant. 

“You need to stop doing this,” Felix told him.

“Doing what?” Rider tilted his head to the side, well aware that he looked like shit. 

“You know what.” Felix didn’t amuse any other comments. He cast an eye over the room. “Damn. The sigils are still here. Must have been Caster’s Master, not him.” He cracked his knuckles. “Do you still have enough energy for us to finish this?” 

Rider nodded. He was still in a bit of pain, like there were needles under his skin, but it could have been worse. Like, Berserker worse. 

“I expected that to be more difficult,” Rider confessed, trailing after Felix as the mage went towards the nearest sigil. “Caster is a powerful mage, yet his spells seemed… ineffectual.” 

Felix shrugged. He knelt down and squinted at the sigil. It was still glowing. His fingers traced an abstract pattern and, a moment later, the sigil shattered. 

“You are a heroic spirit of fire. He is of shadow. It is fortunate that you are strong against him.” Felix smiled ever-so-slightly as he stood. “Besides, Caster is known for being a defensive Servant. I do not doubt that it would have been a much greater challenge if we had to attack their base.”

“So we got lucky.” 

Felix sighed. “Yes, we got lucky. Now let’s go, we have better things to do than this.” 

****

The phone rang in the afternoon the next day, Felix pouring over a map while Rider channel-surfed. The couch was big enough that he could lay out with a hand tucked under his head, his other hand clicking the remote. Modern television was interesting. Certainly more entertaining than traveling bards or harps, at least. 

Felix looked up. Rider yawned. The phone kept ringing. It was some generic jingle. 

“Are you going to get that?” Rider asked. Felix rolled his eyes. He didn’t move, which was not necessarily surprising. Still… “What if it’s Annette?”

Felix’s footsteps fade as he went to pick it up, then — 

“Hello?” 

Rider couldn’t hear the other end of the line and he didn’t expect Felix to change that, so he went back to watching some idiots try to bake a cake larger than the size of his head. Rider had seen fancy baked goods before — he had been a  _ margrave _ after all, not just some minor lord — but this was a new level even for him. 

There was a lot about the modern era that he could get used to. A bit of him wished that he could stick around. 

Not that much, though. Not enough. 

“Hold on, let me put you on speaker.” Felix cleared his throat. “Rider, come over here.” 

“Must I?” Rider replied, but he stood up anyway. Felix was back in the dining room, the phone placed in front of him. The contact read  _ INGRID GALATEA _ with a picture of a blonde raising an eyebrow at the camera. 

“Lancer, can you hear?” A woman — Ingrid — asked. She sounded young, but everyone in the war felt young. Actually, now that he was thinking of it, Rider was surprised that they hadn’t seen an older Master yet. 

He’d ask Felix about it later. 

Whoever Lancer was, he either spoke too softly or didn't say a word because Rider didn’t hear a response. Ingrid resumed speaking after a moment. 

"I have a proposition for you, Rider," Ingrid said. Rider raised an eyebrow, not certain what the point of referring to him directly was — he won't be able to make decisions and it wasn't like Felix cared for his opinion. It was performative at best and condescending at worst. "Your Master and I have a neutrality agreement, but it's just the two of us and Berserker left. I asked Felix if he wanted to work with me to kill Berserker."

"And I said that I wanted your opinion." Felix shifted his weight. Rider stared at him. "What?" Felix's eyebrows drew tight over his eyes. 

"Nothing." Rider looked back at the phone. "What makes you think I need Lancer's help? I have killed more Servants than you. I am the superior fighter. Why would I agree?" He tried to sound as confident as he could, to draw his words out and leave his voice level. He wasn't too certain he succeeded. 

"You may be able to defeat Berserker alone, but wouldn't it be easier with help? Especially since Lancers are historically powerful against Berserkers."

"No one is powerful against Berserkers," Rider muttered. Felix snorted. "I suppose I should be flattered that a Master wants my opinion, but the decision is not my own. I will listen to whatever decision Master makes." 

A brief squint of suspicion was squashed by apathy settling over Felix's face. He nodded, leaning against the table as if he could intimidate Ingrid by sheer willpower. 

"I accept your offer on one condition."

"Let me hear it first," Ingrid replied. 

"I assume that you've seen what my Servant can do by now, but I'm at the disadvantage. I haven't been spying on your every action — and you've been hiding from the fight. Very uncharacteristic of you, I will say." 

Ingrid blew out a long breath. "I've been busy," she claimed. "I killed Assassin."

"Right." Felix rolled his eyes. Rider suppressed a chuckle, but left the smirk in place. A bit of confidence never killed a man. "I want Lancer's name. His real name." 

There was silence. Then, slowly,

"That's a big request." A man's voice. Deeper than a valley, lower than the last embers on a fire. Rider frowned. 

"You must know who Rider is by now. He's only used his Noble Phantasm across the city a few times. This is just evening the playing field." Felix swallowed, but his nerves didn't come through his voice. "Lancer's true name or the deal is off." 

"Give me a confirmation of who your Servant is," Ingrid said. 

"No, Master, we do not—" Lancer falls silent. Muted? Or a Command Seal? A waste of a Seal, if true. 

Faintly, Rider could hear the television in the other room. He wondered who was winning. He wondered if he could convince Felix to buy him a cake. 

He wondered if he was right about his theory. 

"I will tell you my Servant's true name. In exchange, we work together to kill Berserker and you confirm the name of Rider. We also agree to a one day peace after Berserker's death, in which we will allow the other to rest before fighting for the Emblem." Ingrid's voice rose before crashing somewhere in the middle, as if the realization that the War was almost over had hit her like a riptide. "Do — Do these terms sound acceptable?" 

Felix looked at Rider. It took Rider a moment to actually notice. He shrugged. It was just his name. And if he was right…

"You have a deal, Ingrid. I accept your terms." 

Lancer cleared his throat. 

"My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. I am the former king of a nation no longer on the map. I wield the divine lance—"

"Areadbhar," Rider breathed. Felix furrowed his brows. If he frowned too much more, his face was probably going to be stuck like that. 

"Yes," Lancer —  _ Dimitri _ — said. "So I was right. You must be—"

"Sylvain Jose Gautier. I am your ever-loyal knight, my king." Rider cracked a grin. "Well, except for the fact that we're fighting each other." 

Berserker could have come in and cut Rider in half and Rider would barely have noticed. Felix opened and closed his mouth several times. The show in the other room cut to a commercial. 

"I think that we both have much to discuss. We can meet in the park tomorrow at noon." Ingrid sounded like she was trying very hard to keep her voice steady. 

Felix blinked, a slow movement that reminded Rider of a cat. He even licked his lips — mulling over his words before finally opening his mouth and saying,

"By the statue with the horse. I'll be there. Anything else?" 

"No." Ingrid didn't have time to say anything else because Felix hung up. He looked at Rider. 

"What?" Rider ran a hand through his hair. "It's just King Dimitri — the Savior King, to some, depending who you speak with. It's — It's fine." He laughed. It might have been a bit of a nervous laugh, but that would require him to admit that he was nervous and that was too close to admitting that he was scared. 

Rider could not allow himself to be scared, even with the knowledge of who he was facing. 

"Fucking odds… of all the people…" Felix scowled. For once it wasn't at Rider. "What can you tell me about Dimitri?" 

"He's powerful." Rider shrugged. "He uses a lance. It's big and it sometimes is on fire." 

"You see him as your king. Will you be able to kill him?" Felix asked. Rider nodded. He didn't even have to consider it. Felix raised an eyebrow. "You seem confident."

"Do I look like I'm drowning in knightly honor?" Rider snorted, crossing his arms. "I was a failure as a noble lord. Dimitri may be my king, but we were never close." He was convincing enough for Felix to accept it, swallowing and looking out the window. It was a nice day out. The kind that usually would have made Rider want to go on a walk or something, anything, other than stay inside. 

Right now, he just wanted to sit on the couch and watch television for the next six hundred years. 

"Well I still have two more Seals. If I must, I will use them. Don't doubt me on that." Felix turned away, waving a hand. "Go back to… whatever you were doing. Don't worry about our plans. I will settle them." 

"Don't worry, Master, I never do." 

****

The park was nice. Rider wouldn't call it beautiful. There wasn't much to admire, but there wasn't trash either. The bushes were bare, the playgrounds colorful but mostly empty, and the few people they ran into seemed to go out of their way to stay as far from the duo as possible. 

After someone literally saw them and then turned around, Rider looked down at Felix. 

"Master, are you doing that?" He asked. 

"Hm? Oh." Felix held up his left hand. A golden star appeared in his palm. "It's a basic spell. Repulse humans, keep them away from anything that might be… unpleasant." 

"You assume that Lancer and I will get into a fight?" Rider wondered. Felix bit his tongue. Rider laughed at his expression. "Well, we are on the same side for now. If anything, Lancer may be angry at me, but I never tried fighting him while he was alive." 

"As long as you can get along long enough to fight Berserker, that is all that matters," Felix stated. Rider rolled his eyes, which thankfully Felix didn't see. 

_ Only two left… then this will be over, _ Rider reminded himself.  _ Two Servants to fight. Two battles. Then no more. _

The statue was garrish. It was some tall and handsome man with long, flowing hair. He was sitting on a noble steed, his horse rearing up on two legs. There were two people in the plaza, both blondes in flannels. 

The woman had to be Ingrid. She looked like she could be a college student, complete with a tan messenger bag hung over one shoulder. Unsurprisingly, she had to be about Felix's age. They were friends, Rider recalled, and he wondered if they had been childhood companions as well. 

_ Clearly not as close as Annette and Master, _ Rider thought. He watched Felix speed up, not quite a jog but not a casual stroll either.

"Hey," he called out. "You're early." 

"So are you." Ingrid gestured towards Lancer. "Please meet my Servant. And Lancer, meet Felix." 

"A pleasure." Lancer bowed to Felix, a polite one but not deeper than manners required. 

Lancer's hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, his eyepatch fully visible. Rider almost expected the empty socket to be visible, but it made sense to not look like a warrior when in public. Besides, the socket was always a little garrish even when Lancer was using it to intimidate his enemies. 

There was something unspeakably odd about seeing Lancer in sneakers and blue jeans. 

He wasn't looking at Rider, his eye examining Felix. Sizing him up, that was. Felix was eyeing him back, though he didn't seem to find anything to fault since he just nodded before looking back towards Ingrid. 

"So you think you know where Berserker is?" Felix pulled out his phone, opening up the Maps app. Ingrid nodded, mirroring him. Rider, who didn't quite care what two mages discussed unless it was a command or information he could use later, began to tune out. 

Lancer let out a soft sigh, leaning against the base of the statue. His eye closed, head slightly tilted up towards the sky. There was slight stubble on his jaw. Rider scratched his own chin, not feeling a single hair. Could Heroic Spirits even grow hair? Or had Lancer just spawned into existence with the beginnings of a beard? 

"So,  _ Lancer _ ," Rider said, grinning as he said the title, "I take it that you're fighting to correct some terrible mistake?" 

"I am," Lancer replied. He didn't open his eye. 

"What does a king like you have to regret? Didn't have all of the peasantry fawning over you? Not enough hugs given to small children? Taxes not distributed to fund as many schools and churches as you wanted?" Rider expected some kind of aggravated response, but he didn't get any. His smirk drooped, just a hair. "Seriously, Lancer, what would you of all people have to regret? Everyone loved you. Even your enemies at least respected you." 

Lancer opened his eye. The shocking blue seemed even more vibrant than usual. 

"You died, Rider. Killed by an assassin in your own bed. You do not get to lecture me on regrets." His words were acidic and his gaze made Rider feel like he was plunged into ice.

He bared his teeth, his smile humorless. "My apologies, Savior King. I will try to remember my place better." 

"Good." Lancer shifted slightly, the pavement under his feet rough like sandpaper and scraping against his boots. "You are my ally, Rider, but there can only be one winner. I do not know what your wish is, but I know that I carry the hopes of all our people. It would be best if—" 

"Rider," Felix called suddenly, breaking through the illusion that the two Servants were alone. "I need your opinion on something." 

"What does my Master request from me?" Rider asked, stepping so that he looked behind Felix and could peer down at his phone. If he tried to seem taller than usual, well, no one pointed it out. 

"There are certain places where it's best to summon the Emblem. One is here, at the old power plant. The second is the Gloucester estate." Felix grimaced. "I think we can safely eliminate that as an option. And the third is right outside the city here." 

"At your old estate," Ingrid added, shooting him a look. Rider raised an eyebrow. 

"So Berserker must be in one of these locations? There's no chance that his Master could attempt to summon the Emblem anywhere else?" He clarified. 

"Technically, if you had enough mana, you could summon it in the middle of the ocean. But that's like saying that, with enough force, you could move a mountain if you tried hard enough." Felix shrugged. "It's doubtful that anyone would be bold enough to use my own family's estate. The Gloucester one is practically destroyed." 

Ingrid tapped on Felix's phone, the map zooming in on one of the blue dots. It was thirty minutes away by car. 

"It's technically off-limits, but that won't stop any Master worth their crests. The fastest way to approach is just to drive there." Ingrid frowned. "And the most obvious. Whoever has Berserker on such a tight leash is a powerful mage and has avoided any of my attempts at detection. I wouldn't put it past them to know we're coming." 

"If he doesn't know that we're coming, then he's a bigger idiot than I thought." Felix rubbed his side, the one that had almost been cut entirely open just a few days ago. "No, this won't be easy. But that's why I wanted your opinion, Rider. Would it be safer for us to try to clear out any traps or would you prefer to just fight as it is?" 

Rider shrugged. "It's hard to say without having prior knowledge of the battlefield. I've never been affected that much by what's on the ground. You would want to ask Lancer more than me." 

"It will not be a problem for me," Lancer announced. "I can scout ahead, if my Master wishes, and we can meet closer to the target." 

"I agree. You'll know how to find me." Ingrid and the others watched as Lancer closed his eyes and faded into invisibility. Rider could sense his presence grow further and further away until he was gone. 

_ What's gotten into him?  _ Rider wondered. He didn't voice his thoughts, instead looking towards the two Masters. 

"So, how did you get here? We have a car." He jerked a thumb back where they had parked. "Probably nicer than taking the bus." 

"Yes, quite. We should go — I don't doubt that Berserker's Master has eyes everywhere." 

_ Just like you have eyes everywhere? _ Rider held his tongue though, for once. Still, he lingered behind the two, feeling something unsettling in his stomach. 

It was just Lancer, he told himself. Lancer was… different. Which was only natural, if Rider were to be honest with himself. Servants could be summoned from any time and place. The Lancer that he saw now was not the same as the King he had once served. 

He had told Felix the truth, at least. He would have no qualms killing Lancer to get what he wished for. 


	4. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took a lot longer than I thought it would, but here we are folks! Thank you for your patience while I get caught up on life and everything. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll be able to start posting the second part of the series soon, but I am trying to finish up some other things first so stay tuned. In the meantime, please enjoy the last chapter!

"I'm guessing this is the place," Rider drawled as they pulled to a stop outside a chained gate. The sky was stained red, dark clouds circling over what used to be a smokestack of some kind. Streaks of red reminded Rider of bloodstains.

The place fit what he had imagined an abandoned power plant to look like, down to the signs that warned about radiation poisoning and fines and jail time for trespassers. He wanted to ask why it had been left here, why there weren't even any signs of demolition, but he decided the less he knew the better. 

It wouldn't really matter, after all. 

"He must be starting the ritual," Felix muttered, wrapping his jacket a little higher around him. "I can sense the mana. I feel like I'm going to be sick." 

Ingrid nodded in sympathy. She looked a little pale, though she didn't say anything. She just pointed to the central building. Light poured out of the top floor. They flickered, but it was unmistakable. 

"I suppose when one has the strongest remaining Servant, you don't need to hide," Rider drawled, though it did prick him as arrogant to start summoning the Emblem. "Master of Lancer, do you know where your Servant is?" 

On cue, Lancer manifested. He was kneeling on the ground in his full armor, but not armor that Rider recognized. Rather than blue and white, this was blue and black, the edges were… sharper. Less elegant and more hastily fastened, as if it was all clobbered together in an hour or two rather than drawn out. 

In a way, it resembled Rider's armor more than it should have, and that was the most disconcerting part of it. 

"Master, I have returned." Lancer kept his head bowed until Ingrid told him to speak. Seeing him follow another was — not disturbing. Just. Strange. "Berserker and his Master have placed themselves in the uppermost office in the main administrative building. The homunculus has been killed and the ritual started. Berserker's Master does not seem to be aware of our presence yet." 

"Have you seen Berserker?" Ingrid asked. 

"Yes. He is patrolling the upper halls, but he is never too far from his Master. If we attack, we have only one chance to kill him before Berserker arrives." 

Felix nodded slowly. "So it would give away our position if Rider used his Noble Phantasm… Lancer, did you sense any traps?" 

"I did, but they are surprisingly weak. I would assume that Berserker's Master has to use most of his mana keeping Berserker under control." 

"And the ritual must be draining him. Still, one doesn't summon the hero of blue flames without a plan or very deep mana pools." Felix sighed. "Well, I think they both should try to kill Berserker's Master. There's no two ways about it — if we can kill the Master, the Servant vanishes." 

They all knew it wouldn't be that easy, but Rider still clapped his hands together and grinned. 

"Sounds like a plan, Master. What say you, Lancer? Are you up to this adventure of slaying a mage?" 

In reply, Lancer stood. He towered over Rider, even taller as a Servant than he was as a man. Areadbhar appeared in his hand. Much like Rider's Lance of Ruin, it was a long weapon with the head seemingly made of bone. Unlike the Lance of Ruin, Areadbhar was a single, vicious point with weight enough to serve as a slashing weapon or as a piercing blow, cutting past even the hardest of armors. As Rider examined it, Areadbhar’s tip burst into flames. 

Lancer looked at Ingrid. 

"I agree." She held up her right hand, her Command Seals —  _ two, not three, _ Rider noted — and locked eyes with her Servant. "Lancer, go and defeat Berserker and his Master. Show me what you can do." 

Lancer nodded and then took off. Rider glanced at Felix. 

"Go." It was all Rider needed. He jumped after Lancer, shedding his human clothes in a flash of gold, and emerged out the other side in his familiar armor. His own weapon felt warm in his hands. The sky seemed to grow a little darker. 

The two Servants landed on the wall of the building, Lancer digging into the plaster with his feet and one hand while Rider redirected his force. Rather than stop and throw himself back in the air, he ran up the wall. 

It wasn't hard to determine where Berserker's Master was waiting. The magic in the air grew thicker as Rider drew near, his senses remembering crisp breezes and sharp winter nights. There was an underlying edge, though, a tang that he couldn't quite get a hold on. He ignored it — magic, he had picked up on, all felt different depending on who was casting it. Did it matter what the Master of Berserker felt like if Rider's only goal was to cut him down? 

Lancer came flying past Rider and, without an ounce of subtlety, crashed through a glass window. It rained down on Rider, who just raised an arm to block his eyes as he followed Lancer. He crested the ledge in time to take in the room — dull, dirty, a simple rickety table where the homunculus's body lay and a man in dark robes chanting something unintelligible — and to see Lancer stab the Master through the chest. 

Rider snorted. Lancer glared at him, his lance still embedded in a dead man's chest. 

"What?" Lancer spat. His boots  _ squelched _ unpleasantly in the muck. 

"You can't tell, can you?" Rider sighed. "The magic — it's still here." 

Lancer realized what he meant right as the wall exploded.

Berserker swung wildly, the trap sprung. Lancer could only just bring Areadbhar up in time to block one blow that would have rend him from hip to shoulder, instead getting tossed aside like a ragdoll. Rider, who had memory of how ineffectual fighting Berserker up close was, jumped out of the window. 

"Break the heavens with your wings, wyvern of the west, Ruined Sky!" He shouted. There was a flash and the space above him tore open. Nidhogg flew down, wreathed in flame and angry as hell. Rider let out a shout as Nidhogg caught him, his feet slipping into stirrups and his hand wrapping around the reins. 

In the building, Lancer and Berserker clashed in a shower of sparks and a blur of movement. Berserker was stronger — each time their weapons clashed, Lancer was forced into a parry or a sidestep, unable to fully stand up to the sheer force of his foe. But Lancer was smarter and just as agile, though he was still a large man. Lancer weaved around the room, avoiding more hits than he took and lashing out when he saw an opening. Several cuts were already open across Berserker's torso and there was a long gash that bled across his left bicep. 

Still, each seemed no more distracting than a papercut as Berserker's sword and the accompanying flames of both weapons began to engulf the room. 

"Lancer, keep him distracted," Rider ordered, though it was unnecessary and also a little pointless. He had no way of knowing if Lancer could hear him, for one. 

But he didn't stay to check. Rider navigated Nidhogg up and around, searching the area for more of that winter wind chill or sharp breeze — something that made him shiver as he passed by. Berserker's Master had to be here somewhere and he would be infinitely easier to kill than Berserker.

It was a good plan, but Rider was counting on Lancer being able to distract Berserker long enough. For most, it probably would have worked. For a Servant who only fought harder the more he was injured, it wasn't that simple. 

Rider heard Berserker roar, saw Lancer get thrown out of the broken window one way and Areadbhar tossed the opposite, and could not avoid the hulking mass of rage flying towards the air at him once more. Unlike last time, Rider had enough of a warning to pull Nidhogg up and Berserker plummeted to the ground, his hand barely missing Nidhogg's curved talons. 

"Come on, Nidhogg! Let's show 'em how it's done." Rider heard a crack of thunder, saw the lightning split the sky. There was so much magic in the air that everything felt heavy, like he could let go of Nidhogg and walk through the clouds instead. 

Instead, he pulled the reins and took Nidhogg up and around. He saw Lancer hit the ground first in a mushroom cloud of dust and debris. Berserker looked like a comet, fire chewing at the ground and sending embers flying. One went so high that it cut Rider's cheek open, then sealed the wound with a hiss. 

Rider didn't hesitate. He shouted his victory at the top of his lungs as Nidhogg opened its mouth. Fire churned as it bellowed, white hot and mixed with sulfur and ash. The toxic mess fell across the pavement, hissing at the ground in vast swaths. Nidhogg was not a creature of precision and it was sheer luck that Lancer had landed far from Berserker. If there had been grass, it would have vanished under Nidhogg's breath. 

Berserker raged, his sword gleaming purple against the foreign light. His body was covered in the remnants of Nidhogg's flames, but he still had enough energy to shoot a truly terrifying glare at him. Rider saw the blast of flame before it even left Berserker's blade, diving underneath it before pulling back around and avoiding the second attack. He frowned. It was more than a little concerning that Berserker was still alive after taking a breath attack straight to the face. Most people would be in inexplicable pain. 

Was Berserker just that inhuman? What kind of magic controlled him if common sense had left him completely? Rider shivered. He didn't want to think too hard about it. 

On the ground, Lancer stood. He raised his hand and Areadbhar glimmered in his grasp once more. Much like Rider's Lance of Ruin, Areadbhar was glowing beneath the flames that licked along the metal. It hungered. Lancer usually was better at controlling himself — he had been the more steady-minded of the two, had been a moral compass even in the darkest of nights.

Lancer didn't seem to care about the past as he pushed through the dying fires, Areadbhar swinging through the air. 

"Berserker," he shouted, loud enough that even Rider could hear him. "I will kill you. I will grant you the peace you do deserve." 

As good and threatening as it was, Berserker didn't seem to care. He raised his sword and another, horrible rumble left his throat. His voice sounded worse than before, like nails rough from misuse being thrown down a bottomless cavern. Rider kept waiting for the pin to drop and instead of relief there was just mounting horror.

"Cursed blade of the dark god," Berserker intoned, "Divine Aether!" His sword, already wreathed in flames, seemed to explode with energy. Rider found himself pushed back, Nidhogg’s wings fighting against the sudden burst of wind. Berserker’s entire body was consumed by the fire, purple light flickering enough that Rider had to squint. He had the unpleasant sensation of looking into the sun, half-blinded and burnt.

Any sane man would run from Berserker, of all Servants, releasing his Noble Phantasm. Lancer grinned and cackled and, in that moment, Rider truly understood that this was a different man than he had served. 

"Areadbhar, commit the greatest Atrocity." Lancer swung his lance skyward, leaping at Berserker. "Kill every last one of them!"

Rider swore, yanking on Nidhogg's reins to give up the struggle and put as much distance between him and what was about to happen. He still couldn't tear his eyes away as Lancer collided right with Berserker, their weapons meeting. Areadbhar flashed gold and, temporarily, Rider could remember. 

He could see the green fields churned into bed, could feel the rain against his face. He saw Dimitri leading the charge, elegant banners whipping in the wind. His hair shone like gold as he rallied the troops, fighting off the invaders who threatened the kingdom's way of life. 

He remembered feeling pride and honor and  _ glory _ after winning, about raising a cup with Dimitri at the victory feast, about touring the land with his King. The people had cheered for them. The woman had flocked to them. Everyone had been safe, for once in a long, long time. 

Life, Rider supposed, hadn’t been all bad. 

The light faded and the ringing in Rider's ears became apparent. He grit his teeth, his vision swimming. He inelegantly swung around, Nidhogg grumbling in protest at the sudden turn. It still took Rider a moment to take in what he saw. 

Lancer was next to Berserker, glaring up at the enemy Servant. Areadbhar was buried in Berserker's chest. The blade glowed softly, blood pouring out from around the wound. It was much larger than it should have been, but surprisingly wasn’t on fire anymore. Berserker’s own sword was pointed towards the ground, also just a normal golden sword. Lancer scowled, leaning in close to Berserker. 

"You are a powerful warrior. I am certain that we will meet again." He began to draw Areadbhar back. 

From his vantage point, Rider saw it first. 

"Watch out!" 

His warning almost came too late. Berserker threw Lancer off him and it was only supernatural reflexes that kept Lancer from being skewered on the sword of his enemy. Lancer still was powerless to stop himself from being tossed about, his limbs all askew. He sailed high in the sky, turning about so he could bring Areadbhar up in defense when Berserker hurled his sword, newly ignited, in the air and leapt up to meet it. 

Rider had a bone-chilling moment when he realized that, even well above the battlefield, Berserker could still reach him. But he was not the target — Lancer was. 

Berserker twirled round like a dancer, the blade not impeding his movement in the slightest. The weapon dug into Lancer's armor, crashed against Areadbhar, and drew blood from wounds that were then cauterized by the sheet heat of the surrounding flames. Rider drew Nidhogg as close as he dared, but he could hardly charge in while friend and foe were so entangled. He readied the Lance of Ruin for an opening, but saw none. 

Instead, he saw a horrible truth. For every blow Berserker landed, his wounds healed and his eyes glowed brighter. 

_ That's just unfair, _ Rider thought.  _ Sabers who have defensive Noble Phantasms and Berserkers who can revitalize themselves? What is this War? _

Lancer came crashing down alongside Rider's thoughts, Berserker landing on top of him. The dust and ash billowed out, forcing Rider to squeeze his eyes shut as his lungs coughed against the debris. Nidhogg groaned, twisting around to try to see what was happening with its Master. 

Another round of coughing, then Rider hesitantly peered out at the battlefield. 

There was a crater in the ground. Smoke blew out, a faint glow pulsing from the center. Rider brought Nidhogg down low, though caution rang loud in every nerve. He tried, but nothing was visible through the cloud except that light that kept beating like a heart. 

"Berserker!" It wasn't a magically enhanced sound, nor did it echo across the yard. No, it was Berserker's Master, the man shooting a blast of wind over the area. It pushed the cloud of fumes away, revealing just what had happened. 

Berserker's sword was burning low. In fact, the flames were once again almost extinguished. They would get brighter, then dim again, in time with Berserker's chest rising and falling. He couldn't move far, because part of Areadbhar was lodged in his torso. 

The shaft was broken, the useless end gripped in Lancer's hand. He was trapped underneath Berserker's bulk, also injured. Rider thought that his arm was twisted at an awkward angle before, with a drop in his stomach, realizing that it was severed completely. 

"I command you to get up," Berserker's Master shouted. He seemed so small from how high up Rider was. Berserker stirred, but even the magic of the Seal wasn't enough to fix what Atrocity had done. 

Rider knew about Areadbhar, had seen it cut down hundreds, and was a bit fascinated that Berserker hadn't been blasted to smithereens. Two direct blows — most couldn’t even survive past one. It just made him even more certain that he couldn't have hoped to defeat Berserker alone. He shook his head — no point thinking about what could have been. He dug his heels into Nidhogg's sides and they coasted down. 

"I'd start running if I were you," he called to Berserker's Master. He got a glare for his trouble. 

"Berserker, I command you to keep fighting!" A second seal shimmered off of the back of the man's hand. The air around him stirred, long black hair whipping from side to side. "Berserker, listen to my command. Get up and fight!" The third seal disappeared. 

Rider dismounted. It felt almost like overkill to do this while on a wyvern's back. This close, he could see the faint green shimmer in the man's hair, could see his vibrant red eyes. He could smell the sharp scent of winter chill and the way it contrasted with the sudden sensory reminder of spring days and autumn fields and—

“You set the sigils,” Rider realized. Berserker’s Master raised an eyebrow. He tossed a spell at Rider, who dodged easily. Mages stood behind Servants for a reason. “You were killing people for their mana.”

“I only took what I needed,” came the reply. “Berserker—” His eyes went wide as Nidhogg, annoyed with how slow everything was going, leaned over and snapped at Berserker. 

There was a sharp scream then nothing. Lancer, who had never really fancied getting that close to Nidhogg even while they were alive, shivered. Nidhogg was proud to report this to Rider, who had his eyes on one person only. He barely heard Felix and Ingrid run up behind him, almost ignored Felix’s shout for him to stop.

“This is the man who used humans as expended. He killed the homunculus — he would have killed you!” Rider shouted, turning so he could face Felix. Their eyes locked from across the pavement. Rider gestured with the Lance of Ruin. “I have very little to my name, but at least I have my honor as a noble lord, my honor that I never intentionally harmed civilians.”

“In life or as a Heroic Spirit?” Berserker’s Master snarled. “None of you understand the Emblem. Its purpose isn’t just to grant miracles for an individual. It’s supposed to benefit all. If a few lives have to be sacrificed for that, then it’s worth it.”

“It’s not a sacrifice if the person isn’t willing. Then it’s just murder.” Rider tilted the Lance of Ruin under the enemy mage’s chin. To his credit, the mage didn’t beg for his life nor did he say anything unhonorable. He just glared defiantly, accepting his fate as an enemy mage. 

Rider, for what it was worth, made it quick. 

Ingrid took a step back. Felix scoffed. 

“I made a promise. Get out of here and take your Servant. You have twenty-four hours.” He didn’t have to repeat himself. Ingrid shouted for Lancer, who staggered to his feet. 

Lancer looked like shit. That was the only way Rider could even comprehend it. His armor was broken in multiple places, his  _ arm _ was missing, and he was leaning heavily to one side. Still, his single blue eye met Rider with a determination that made Rider swallow down a witty comment.

“I will meet you tomorrow,” Ingrid promised. She turned and ran. Lancer disappeared, going invisible to the bare eye. Still, Rider didn’t relax until he could no longer sense Lancer’s presence. 

Felix ran up to Rider as Nidhogg crumbled and faded. Best to save the mana, Rider figured, especially with almost all of their enemies taken care of. 

“Why do you think that he made the sigils?” Felix asked, though he resolutely did not look at the body. 

“His magic smells the same.” 

  
Felix opened and closed his mouth. He ended up just nodding. Rider looked up at the now half-destroyed power plant shell. There was a fire burning on the top floor and portions seemed to have been destroyed during the fight, though when exactly Rider hadn’t seen. He didn’t fancy digging through, but if they had to secure the homunculus… 

“What are you doing?” Felix asked as Rider tensed up, preparing to jump. 

“We have to get the homunculus?” 

  
“No.” Felix pointed up in the sky. Rider squinted, but he couldn’t see anything against the lingering smoke and ash. “It’s faint, but it’s there. The Emblem’s been called. We just — We just need to eliminate the last Master.” 

Rider was kind enough not to tease him for his stutter. 

“Do we need to worry about Ingrid returning before us?” He questioned. “Do we have to stay here?” 

Felix shook his head. “The Emblem will only let the winner touch it. Anyone else risks going mad from the sheer magical energy.” He paused. “Actually, if you believe the rumors, you risk going mad regardless.”

“Great.” Rider’s tone was humorless.

“Yeah.” Felix matched him. A moment passed. Felix looked at Rider. “Let’s go back. We have… We may as well rest somewhere safe, tonight.” 

“Annette’s?” 

“Yes.” Felix started walking back to the car. “Rider?” He called, stopping when he noticed that his Servant hadn’t moved. Rider blinked, shaking his head. He plastered on a smile. 

“Sorry, Master. Just picturing all those virgins I’m going to get once we win.” If Felix noticed anything hollow about Rider’s words, he didn’t say it. Which was good. Rider was in no mood to discuss the truth of his wish, after all. 

**** 

Rider was ready to patrol that night, but Felix told him that there was no point. 

“Did you see Lancer? He is in no condition to fight anyone tonight. Rest.” Felix didn’t mention how Rider hardly looked ready to fight anyone, a slump in his shoulders that hadn’t been there at the beginning of the night. “There’s a guest room. You can stay there.” 

“As you wish, my Master,” Rider said. He didn’t need to sleep, not really, but he didn’t mind the  _ idea _ of sleep. He dressed in his most comfortable clothes and lay on the bed — it was smaller than his bed back when he was alive, but there was something nice about sheets that didn’t have mold or something else obnoxious in the threads. 

He stared up at the ceiling. There was an antique clock tick-tocking its way through the night. The window was open a crack. He didn’t know why, but he kept smelling smoke, heavy and cloying in his throat. Still, the breeze of night air helped clear his head. 

It was almost over. He was almost to his goal. 

_ Funny. I should be happy. Instead… _ Rider rolled onto his side. He stared at the wall. He couldn't help but see Felix's determined face, his tensed jaw, his bright eyes. It was strange, being haunted by someone who wasn't a ghost. 

_ I will kill Lancer tomorrow. I will kill my king. _

Only, Lancer wasn’t really his king. Lancer wasn’t anyone’s king. He was dead.

So was Rider, for what it was worth. That fact didn’t make him feel better. 

Rider groaned and pulled a pillow over his face. He didn’t have to breathe so it didn’t have the effect he had hoped. His mind still spun in circles, thoughts too cluttered to be cohesive and too loud to be ignored. Part of him wished to go to Felix. Part of him felt sick at the idea. And some part… 

Well. It didn't matter. Tomorrow would be the end, one way or another. 

There was a knock on the door. 

He sat up. His hair was a lost cause, but he still smoothed his shirt down before calling, 

“Yes?” Rider didn’t know what he expected, but Felix carefully opening the door wasn’t it. Felix, fully dressed in that old leather jacket and dark blue jeans, wasn’t it. “What is it, Master? Did something happen?” 

“How is your mana, Rider?” Felix asked. He wasn’t meeting Rider’s eyes. Rider had enough mana to fight, though Nidhogg wouldn’t be happy about it. He told Felix as much. “Ah…” 

The clock continued to tick. Rider waited. He was good at doing that. 

“Do you need extra mana?” Felix said. Rider blinked at him. “For your fight. I know that summoning your wyvern is not easy. If you want, I can give you more mana.”

For once, Rider didn’t expect to be propositioned. He didn’t even know  _ how _ exactly it worked, but the Fire Emblem’s magic happily filled him in on Felix’s implication. Rider smirked, though his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t think Felix noticed.

“If you want to sleep with me, Master, there are easier ways of asking.”

Feix began to stammer and protest, but Rider just laughed.

“I do not need to do that to be ready for tomorrow. Besides, your heart doesn’t seem into it. I wouldn’t enjoy myself sleeping with someone who didn’t feel as enthusiastic about it as I do.” Rider wasn’t blind — Felix was attractive. If he were still alive, he probably would have jumped at the chance. 

But a lot had changed, and not just the fact that Rider’s heart didn’t beat. 

Admittedly, Felix looked — maybe not relieved, but not upset at being turned down. Good, because Rider didn’t want to deal with a vindictive Master. 

Good, because Rider didn't want to hurt him, and that was all the more terrifying to consider. 

“I just wanted to offer.” He stepped back to close the door but paused, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. “Rider… Sylvain…” It was odd hearing his name. Rider realized it had been a while since anyone had called him that. 

“Yes, Felix?” Rider smiled. Felix returned it.

“I’m glad that I summoned you. Tomorrow, when we win… I look forward to seeing what your wish is.” The earnest expression took Rider’s breath away. He nodded. 

“I — I’m glad you’re my Master, Felix.” 

Without another word, Felix left the room. The door  _ clicked _ behind him. Rider frowned. 

“I’m… sorry…” It felt cold, suddenly. He wrapped the blankets tighter around him, trying his best not to think about what he was preparing to do. 

It was too late to reconsider. He had to do this. He didn’t have any other choice. 

********

Castle Gautier had always been a bit drafty. From no fault of anyone’s, really, but it was old and there were too many cracks for the maids to plug with old cloth and it was too involved to tear down parts in hopes of repairing things. Taxes had to be used to fund the never-ending conflict, to arm men and send them to fight in the name of king and country. 

Also, funding a troop of wyvern riders was expensive, especially when it was led by the margrave, who could hardly fight in rag and ruin. 

Sylvain liked to think that he was a good Margrave. He knew that he wasn’t necessarily adored, but he wasn’t loathed either.

He got a lot of men, women, and everyone else in his bed. At the very least, he was attractive enough to make up for failures of personality. And, well, he wasn’t foolish enough to think that those didn’t exist.

“My — my lord, you are bold!” The woman squealed as Sylvain cupped her breasts over her dress. He smirked, leaning forward to kiss her. “Your reputation was not wrong,” she continued once she could speak. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, every kiss and touch leaving her breathless.

Sylvain laughed, stripping off his own tunic and loosening his trousers. 

“I know beauty when I see it. If it is a sin to appreciate a lovely being, then why did God create women?” 

His partner for the night giggled, childishly slapping him on the arm. Her makeup was bright and expensive. Sylvain couldn’t quite remember who she was — someone’s daughter, probably, or a friend of the family. What he did know was that her dress was tightly laced and contained multitudes — specifically a set of lovely, supple breasts that he never grew tired of seeing. 

Sylvain barely held back a scowl when she caught his hand, stopping him from undressing her further. 

“My lord,” she said, “I hear that a true lord never opens his own presents. Allow your humble servant to aid you.” He was a bit confused by the metaphor — like most nights, he had been drinking more than his fill — but he nodded.

Laying back against his sheets, he watched her get on her knees. The bed sagged under her weight as she reached behind her, pulling the ribbons of her dress loose. The first came free and, with a teasing smile, she leaned up close to him. Her fingers trailed up his chest, brushing against the undershirt that loosely hung off his shoulders. 

She paused against a scar that ran thick and ugly against his right shoulder. 

“What happened here, my lord?” 

Sylvain was in a good enough mood to humor her. “A lance in my first campaign. I suffered a fever for three days — the healers thought I would not recover.”

Her fingers brushed over a patch of puckered skin on his palm.

“And this?” 

“A burn when I was a boy and playing with a hot poker. The butler left it in the fire.”

Again, a gentle caress across his torso. A thin, white line crossed across his stomach.

“A saber in a training accident.” Sylvain smirked. “My father had the man whipped.” 

His head fell back, eyes fluttering closed. He grabbed her arm tightly, not caring if he left a mark. She hissed as he squeezed. 

“Now, I grow impatient. You wouldn’t want your lord to get upset, would you?” 

“Of course not, my lord,” she replied in the sweetest voice he had ever heard. 

Sylvain didn’t see the dagger coming, but he felt it slip between his ribs. Her aim was off — it wasn’t a clean death. Or maybe that was her intention. Regardless, she got to see his eyes open in fear and confusion, heard the strangled scream before she covered his mouth with her hand. 

He threw her off, but it was too late. She rolled onto her feet, standing beside his bed. Her eyes gleamed in the faint candlelight.

“Good night, my lord,” she said. 

Rider woke up, hyperventilating even though he didn’t have to breathe. 

He was sitting up. The fucking clock was still running. He could feel it echoing in the back of his skull. He resisted the urge to throw it across the room. His head pounded in time with the beat.  _ Tick, tock. tick, tock. _

“Ugh.” He rubbed his eyes. Apparently a Servant could fall asleep — at least enough to dream and to die. He wasn’t thrilled about it. 

According to the clock, it was about 3 a.m. He wasn’t tired but he still felt like he was used as a wyvern chew toy. He toyed with the idea of laying back down, but something told him that he wouldn’t find satisfaction there. Instead, he stood, throwing the sheets back and not bothering to smooth them over. 

What did it matter when he was going to finish all of this soon anyways? 

It was pure luck that he noticed Felix’s door opening as he walked towards the bathroom. Rider hesitated.

“Master?” He called out. Something crawled up his spine. In a flash of golden light, he donned his armor and strode towards the room. He pushed the door open. “Are you—” 

An invisible dagger slid up in his torso, thankfully missing any important organs but still sending shoot pain and a slow burn into his every nerve. 

“Fuck!” He swung with his free hand, fist slamming into the wall. Rider could just make out the slight blur of air signifying an invisible Servant, but there was only one Servant who fought with daggers and could be invisible. 

A Servant who Ingrid had promised Lancer had killed. 

Felix woke up as Rider summoned his Lance of Ruin and started spinning it around to put some room between him and Assassin. It was unnecessary — as Felix woke, Assassin made the decision to go after the easy target. Unfortunately for Assassin, Felix was quick to the draw. 

His crests flashed as a shield appeared, the incantation instantaneous. It was bright as sun and looked familiar — it was the same one he had used against Berserker. Sparks flew up between Assassin’s invisible daggers and Felix’s shield, Felix just fast enough to stop himself from getting killed instantly. 

“Get behind me,” Rider shouted, though it was easier said than done. He made his way into the room, taking an educated guess. The Lance of Ruin flew through the air and Assassin wasn’t fast enough to avoid it entirely. A spurt of blood and a blast of air — Felix was thrown back, though he stayed steady as he curled up behind his shield, and Rider dug his heels into the carpet. 

Assassin, Rider thought, looked like a mockery of a real killer. Except for the long daggers in both hands, the rest of his outfit was a bit ridiculous, though Rider was the one who had giant metal spikes inches from his head. Assassin wore dark green leather armor that was tight against his chest but lacked sleeves and left his midriff visible. Fingerless black gloves covered his hands and went up to his elbows. 

His scarf billowed as the magic concealing him dissipated. His mouth was covered by fabric, but Rider could see the frown in his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Rider said. His side throbbed. He didn’t look down. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell us how you’re still alive?” 

Assassin lunged at him. Rider backed up, lance blocking a swipe of those acid-coated daggers. Instincts and training took over. Rider grabbed Assassin’s wrist, his own strength greater, though being this close put him at a disadvantage considering their weapons. He kneed Assassin in the stomach even as Assassin jumped up and twisted around.

His free hand moved in a blur and Rider was forced to free him or get another stab to the chest. He tried to hit Assassin, but the man was too dexterous. Assassin reached to his side, where a knife was strapped to his thigh. It flew at Felix, who still had his shield up. The dagger collided with it, sparks flying. 

Assassin was forced back when Rider stepped forward, leading with his lance. The spikes thirsted for blood, clacking against the shaft as they chased their bliss. In the narrow space, Rider was loath to go all out. He'd be fine if the ceiling collapsed, but Felix would not and he probably wouldn’t be happy either.

  
It just meant that he’d have to get creative in how to kill Assassin. 

Rider grit his teeth, leading with his shoulder as he charged into the room. His lance trailed behind him, cutting into the carpet. Assassin rolled to one side, more knives coming out of nowhere and flying towards him. Rider had expected that — he turned and swept his lance out, knocking the blades out of the air and slicing at Assassin. 

A thin line of blood began to trickle from Assassin’s lip. 

He didn’t have time to think as Rider turned with surprising control. Changing direction on two feet was much easier than when he was in the air. This time, Rider swung the Lance of Ruin up, actually taking a bit out of the plaster as he brought it down. Assassin crossed his daggers together, catching the lance in them. 

The two were in a stalemate. Sweat dripped down Rider’s face. His side burned. Assassin glanced at the wound. Rider didn’t want to know what it looked like. 

Before he could think of something clever, Felix dropped his shield and pointed his hand at Assassin. 

“ _ Klinge des Donners! _ ” Ozone filled the room and thunder rumbled in the distance. A bolt erupted from Felix’s hand and struck Assassin in the chest, throwing him into the wall. The drywall cracked. Assassin blinked, stars in his eyes. 

Rider grit his teeth, dashing forward to plunge his lance into Assassin’s chest before the opposing Servant could stand. Assassin gasped and raised one hand, but he erupted into golden dust before the dagger could leave his grasp. 

The sound of heavy breathing was only marginally less tense than the ticking of a clock. 

  
Rider looked at Felix. He nodded. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Felix stared at the space Assassin had occupied. Rider leaned against the wall and finally glanced at his side. Now that Assassin was gone, the acid had faded from reality. The cut was still an angry red, but it wasn’t actively burning. 

He returned his gaze to Felix. He was trembling, eyes dark. For a moment, Rider was scared that Felix was about to cry. But no — Felix clenched his jaw and curled his hands into fists. He might have been intimidating, only he was in his pajamas. Then again, he had survived his first assassination attempt. Hopefully it would be the only one. 

“Rider, do you need healing?” Felix asked. his voice was low. 

“I would appreciate it,” Rider admitted.

Felix slid out of bed. He clasped Rider’s shoulder in his hand. The shock felt more like a gentle prank rather than a life-altering blast, but it still did the trick. Rider took in a deep breath and it didn’t hurt this time. 

He watched as Felix went to his bed again and bent down. He picked up a picture frame. The glass fell out in chunks. His thumb brushed over the photo, the barest ghost of a touch. 

“Give me five minutes,” Felix ordered. A shadow passed over his face, “I need to have a conversation with Ingrid.”

****

Rider thought that he had seen Felix angry before. He thought that Felix had been angry when they had discovered the sigils in the mall, or when Saber’s identity had been revealed. He thought that Felix’s anger was a simmering kind, insidious in its subtlety — one that Rider was familiar with, having grown up with Miklan who would smile and then stab you in the back as soon as you turned away. 

But no, Felix was nothing like that. He was a slowly mounting storm, one with plenty of warning and nothing to misunderstand. 

As they drove to the Galatea house, Felix went from squirming in his seat to holding stock still. He glared out the window. His crests flickered in and out of view. Seeing the blue stark against his skin was almost frightening with the shadows they cast across his face.

Rider didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything he could. 

The Galatea house was the most house-like of all the mage abodes he had seen. It wasn’t much bigger than the neighboring homes, maybe two bedrooms with a normal yard. Except for the faint hum of magic, Rider would have driven right by it. 

“Stay behind—” Felix stormed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “Me.” Rider shook his head, following and donning his armor as soon as he cleared the car. 

“Galatea! Come out and answer me,” Felix bellowed. He raised a hand and a few bolts of lightning flew from his palm, fizzling off of the shield that surrounded the premise. Rider grabbed Felix by his collar and yanked him back before he could try walking up to the front door. “Let go of me,” Felix protested. 

His right hand came up and the Command Seals started to glow.

“If you die when we’re this close, I will hunt your soul down myself,” Rider told him. He looked up at the sky. Fire crawled under his skin. “I am your Servant. I fight for you. Assassin is the weakest in a direct fight — Lancer is one of the strongest. You already risked yourself against Berserker. I need your mana more than you do.”

They didn’t have time for an extended argument because Lancer came rushing out from one of the windows. Glass flew through the air as he swung Areadbhar. Its flaming head collided with the Lance of Ruin’s shaft. Rider pushed Felix back, not caring to hold back since Felix was a tough little mage. 

“Are you truly without honor?” Lancer asked, eye narrowing. 

“You talk about honor when your Master lied to our faces,” Rider spat back. He forced Lancer back. Their spears crossed, each blow drawing embers out from air. 

Parry, dodge, block — Lancer was fast. Faster than Rider. But he was also injured and Rider had recovered more mana. Felix was a better mage than Ingrid and it showed in the little things. It didn’t hurt that Rider had taken less damage against Berserker. 

“I — I had no choice,” Lancer swore as their weapons locked once more. “The Seals — my Master commanded that I remain silent.” 

Areadbhar swung through the air and Rider rolled to one side. He tried to sweep Lancer’s legs out from him, but Lancer jumped into the air. He thrust Areadbhar out and Rider knocked the shaft up with one hand. As Lancer pulled his blade back, Rider tried to tackle him. It was too telegraphed, a trick he had done many times when they faced in life. Lancer stood his ground and punched him in the face. 

Rider’s vision blurred and he held up his hands to block the sucker-punch, but he couldn’t react to Lancer kneeing him in his already-bruised torso. Blood trickled from the corners of Rider’s mouth. Lancer was breathing heavily, his ridiculous cloak ashen at the ends. 

Above them, the sky darkened. 

“What is your wish?” Lancer cried out. “What do you desire so strongly that you would prevent me, your king, from claiming victory?” 

“It doesn’t work that way, Dimitri. You may be my king in life, but in death you’re just another enemy.” Rider tried to pretend that the taste in his mouth was just from his own blood. 

He didn’t want to continue this conversation and once more leapt at Lancer. The Lance of Ruin flashed and landed in Lancer’s shoulder. The point went all the way through, the shaft stained red once more, but Lancer just pulled himself off with a bellow of rage. He spun in a circle, flames spiralling outward. Rider hissed as they burned around him, but they were weak. Magic had never been Lancer’s strength. 

“I respect you too much to just concede,” Rider added. “You would never be happy with that.” 

“My happiness is a sin,” Lancer replied. “My only salvation is victory.” 

The door to the house flew open. Ingrid, a coat wrapped around what looked like pajamas, marched out.

“What is the meaning of this?” She screamed at Felix. 

“You tell me,” he shot back. He had taken shelter on the other side of the road. Rider, briefly, considered the real miracle in the fact that no one else had left their homes amongst the commotion. “You allied with Assassin. He would have killed me!” 

Ingrid, for her credit, paled. “No — he was only supposed to kill Rider. She promised.” 

“They always say that you can’t trust your friends.” Felix raised a hand. His golden construct of a sword appeared. “Ingrid, I don’t want to kill you. Call off Lancer and I’ll let you live out of respect for our friendship.” 

_ Respect that she lacks, _ Rider thought. Lancer wasn’t attacking, though, and Rider still had some semblance of chivalry. There were peace talks occurring and he would not be the one to ruin them. 

Ingrid looked pained. “You know I can’t do that. I need the Emblem, Felix.”

“And so do I.” Felix looked at Rider. “Kill Lancer.” 

“As you command.” Rider spun the Lance of Ruin around, cutting into the ground with its sharpened blade. He let Lancer come to him, parried one strike and then the next. Lancer’s movements were uncoordinated, desperate. 

Rider wondered how much mana it had taken for his arm to reappear. He didn’t want to know why Lancer was still missing an eye if magic could replace a whole limb. 

But, for all of Rider’s advantages, he could not make any ground against someone who was born with his weapon in hand. 

He found himself pushed back despite his best efforts, his back leg colliding with the car door. Lancer adjusted his grip and used Areadbhar as a pole, the shaft digging into the ground as he swung around and kicked Rider in the chest. All the air left Rider’s unmoving lungs and something cracked — his armor dented from the force. Rider tried to grab him, but Lancer was already out of range. 

Without thinking, Rider jumped onto the car and raised the Lance of Ruin. 

"Break the heavens with your wings—” 

Lancer didn’t wait. He charged forward faster than light, Areadbhar tearing through Rider’s torso. The flames were extinguished in his blood. Rider heard Felix scream, but he just smirked. 

“Too sloppy, Dimitri.” 

The Lance of Ruin stuck out of Lancer’s back. Areadbhar might have been the more powerful weapon, but Rider had the more powerful mage. And Lancer had always been slow to adapt. 

The realization of what had happened struck Lancer at the same time as Ingrid. She let out a strangled scream, but Rider was focused on Lancer. He pulled his lance free even as Lancer’s grasp went loose, Areadbhar slipping away. The look in Lancer’s eye was desperation.

“Syl… vain… Please… save… everyone…” He reached up and, with great care, cupped Rider’s jaw in one hand. “You have to… save… everyone…”

“I will,” Rider promised. He placed his forehead against Lancer’s. “I will.” 

Lancer faded into golden light. Areadbhar went with him. Felix marched forward. 

“You tell me I take risks,” he grumbled, placing a hand on Rider’s chest. He closed his eyes, half his body lighting up as he poured what mana he could spare into Rider. They were running low, but they had won. Ingrid could do nothing. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Ingrid asked, still standing at her doorstep. She didn’t bother to run. It wouldn’t make a difference, not if Rider went after her. 

Felix glared. “I should. But I won’t. Annette would be upset.” He looked at Rider. His face softened. “We won. We’re the last ones.”

Rider flicked his wrist. The Lance of Ruin disappeared, though he kept his armor. He was not collecting the Emblem in a button-up and jeans. 

The sky was still gloomy, even considering that it was night — not a single star pierced the unnatural cloud cover. And while it was quiet, it didn’t feel peaceful. Was this really it? Was he really about to fulfill the one desire he had held ever since he was a young boy?

Before he could suggest they go to the power plant to finish the ceremony, thunder broke through the sky. Rider flinched and pushed Felix behind him, but no enemy came stampeding out. Instead, a glowing star seemed to descend. 

No, not a star. A medallion. An emblem, if one were to be creative. 

They all stared as the Fire Emblem floated down, no larger than a man’s palm, wreathed in gentle blue flames. It was circular though it had eight points jutting out, almost like spines. It came so close that Rider had only to take two steps forward and he could touch its surface. 

Felix stepped out from behind Rider. He licked his lips.

“Rider—”

“Sorry, Felix.” Without hesitating, Rider crossed the space and clasped the Emblem in one hand. His entire world went white.

****

A girl sat on a throne. It was no throne that Rider had seen in life, atop a set of stairs all made from marble. The girl had green hair that reminded him of the priest and woman from the church. Her eyes though — they were not the eyes of a human. 

“Oh my,” the girl said. “You have a much different wish than the last one.” 

Rider looked up at her. He wondered if he was supposed to bow or kneel or — or something. The girl laughed. It was a little cold, but not cruel. 

“You do not have to do anything, Sylvain of House Gautier, except make your wish. But I need to warn you — are you prepared for the consequences?” Her eyes gleamed. Rider didn’t trust her. 

“Are you the Emblem?” He asked. She waved a hand.

“I suppose.” He didn’t like that.    
  


“Will Master — Will Felix get to make a wish?” 

“No.” The girl frowned. “I don’t know where everyone got the wish from to begin with. I don’t know why people think there can be more than one wish granted either. There’s only one Emblem. Why would people be able to share it?” 

Rider had to admit, she had a point. Still… 

“So my wish will prevent Felix from making his?” 

The girl sighed and dramatically threw her hands up. “Why do you care? Isn’t this all because you don’t care?” 

Despite himself, Rider winced. His heart, bitter and blackened and charred, still beat. 

“This is worse than last time. At least then I got to have some fun.” She sneered. “Humans, mages, heroic spirits — you’re all the same. none of you know what to do with true power. You never should have created the Emblem at all.” 

“The last time… Felix’s father—”

“Yes! He won and he got his wish.” The girl smiled, but it was a face that Rider would have nightmares of. “Sort of.” 

Rider didn’t know what kind of man Felix’s father was, not really, but he couldn’t believe that it was to cause destruction. Not if that man raised Felix, the Master who promised to not hurt humans and who seemed to leave most of his enemies alive unless he had no other choice. 

_ Then again, _ a dark part of Rider whispered,  _ he didn’t have the chance to kill most of them, did he? _

_ I’m the one who chose to kill Berserker’s Master. Felix had no say. He didn’t order me to do it.  _

“He didn’t order you not to,” the girl reminded Rider. She examined her nails. “So, what will you do? Make your selfish, horrible wish? Or allow Felix to try his luck? Who knows, maybe he’ll be more fortunate than his father.” 

“I have one last question,” Rider said. 

“You’ve already had too many,” the girl spat. The room flashed bright but Rider was still there when he could see again. The girl was standing in front of him, now a woman. Her hair was paler, more of a mint, and she wore a long white dress. 

“The Fire Emblem does not exist to answer curious Servants. It exists as a channel for magical power,” she said. “We all exist to protect the Root from selfish desires. Better to placate one human than all.” 

Another flash. Rider wasn’t sure what to expect, but the sight of the homunculus from a few days ago was not it. She gave him a little wave. Despite himself, he returned it. 

“This much magic will harm the outside world,” she warned. “Best make up your mind soon before something happens that you won’t like.” 

Rider swallowed. He thought about Felix. He thought about Dimitri. He thought about his home, long since abandoned. The walls were already crumbling when he lived there. Any rot had taken root when he was born. 

“You know what I want.” 

“I need you to say it.” 

“I wish…”  _ I’m sorry, Felix. I wish I was as brave as you deserve. _ “I wish that I had never been born.”

The homunculus nodded. Once more, the world went white. This time, Rider did not see what happened after. 

****

Felix woke up in his bed. His head throbbed. The sunlight filtered gently in through the half-drawn curtains. He glanced to the side for some reason and was surprised to see the picture of him and his family — the only one with all four of them — was missing. The last he could remember, it was still there. He was getting ready for the War…

No, he had summoned… 

He had… 

There was… 

He stood. His legs shook and he had to cling to his bed frame, but he managed to remain upright. Felix held down bile. His stomach churned, but it was empty. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. 

Thinking about it, he didn’t remember when he had last eaten. He wasn’t even sure what day it was. 

He stumbled into the kitchen. There were new things in the fridge and other things missing. Had Annette eaten his leftover Thai? It didn’t sound like her — she hated the amount of spice he used. 

Nothing held his attention. He felt a nagging in the back of his head. Was he missing a meeting? But no, there wasn’t anything in his phone. 

Unsettled, he called out: “Annette?” But there was nothing but silence. “Annette, are you still asleep?” A glance at the clock on the microwave told him that it was almost one in the afternoon. 

He checked Annette’s room, first knocking on the door then opening it once he counted to thirty. No one was in there. Feeling a growing unease, he headed to the garage. A drive usually cleared his head. Besides, he suddenly wasn’t feeling very hungry. 

Once there, he stared at his car. It was instinct that dialed Annette and it only took two rings for her to pick up. 

“Hey, you’re awake! I’ll be back soon, I just went to the store—”

“Annette, did you get my car fixed?” Felix interrupted. 

“What?”

“My car. The seats — they should be all messed up.” He couldn’t tell her how, but he knew that his car wasn’t in perfect condition — at least, it should not have been. In reality, it didn’t even look like he had taken it out of the garage recently. But why would that be? It was how he got around. It wasn’t like the city had a public transportation system for him to use. 

“You’re probably all confused. You were out for a while after winning.” 

“Winning what?” Felix frowned. Surely… 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Annette’s voice was deadly serious. “You — Felix, did you just forget winning the Fire Emblem War? We helped Rider restore his kingdom. He rode a horse?”

“Rider didn’t have a horse,” Felix blurted. “He… He didn’t, did he?” 

“Felix, stay where you are. You’re — you’re worrying me. I’m coming back now.” Annette hung up. Something, Felix knew, was very wrong. 

He just didn’t know what. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/ashes8012)


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